


On The Tip of My Tongue

by Tagpye



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Only Wants One Thing and It's Fucking Disgusting - Handholding, Connor is horny and in love and Hank has no idea what's going on, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tagpye/pseuds/Tagpye
Summary: Connor had expected deviancy to come with unexpected experiences, what he didn't expect was a complete breakdown in his logical processing and no indication of how to function.I.E, Connor is madly in love and has absolutely no idea what to do about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been like 2 years since I touched my AO3 account but the sheer hornyness of this fandom resurrected me from my dormant state.
> 
> Connor/Hank is just some real kinky shit and I want a piece of that pie. I also guess I got heavily emotionally invested along the way considering I only started looking at Detroit porn because I decided I really want to peg Connor.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be coming along shortly.

It’s in the quieter moments of the day; When they’re cruising along the lonely backroads, music mumbling out of an outdated CD player, and the soft amber of the sunrise catches at the sharp corners of the bodywork that Connor begins to think. Remember, really, the myriad of tiny little slip-ups, that eventually became stumbles, and gradually lead him to slamming the door shut and sprinting headfirst into whatever kind of existence this was. 

He thinks how he made those decisions to prioritise the insignificant things, the illogical. The actions that had no reasoning other than because a strange nagging in the biocomponents in his guts wormed their way past the clean-cut coding tinkering in his head. If he were to be truthful, he doesn’t know what this kind of existence this is, but as he thinks about Hank’s low tuneful humming and the comfort of  _ home _ approaching over the horizon he realises he doesn’t particularly care. All the notions of what it means to be alive and what it means to have thought, seem to pale in comparison to the simplicity of just being. Being with Hank, being with his job, being with Sumo and the familiar comfort of Hank’s four walls.

Just  _ being _ . It’s nice. Connor would have rather the world stay like this and not have to think too much about the terrifying implications of free will and the weight of self-realisation and existence. 

Though, Connor knew eventually something would have to give. Life simply does not progress without motion, and as Hank pulls into his driveway and gives a small quip about Connor finally being silent for more than a few minutes, Connor can’t quite shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Their arrangement was simple enough, Connor stayed with Hank and Hank asked for nothing in return (other than the simple housekeep one would expect of a housemate of course). They remained as partners at work, and they returned home together each day. Like clockwork. Like a simple organised schedule of being.

Hank unlocked the door and Sumo bounded over, paws immediately hitting Hank square in the chest while he fussed over the big soppy thing. Connor couldn’t help but to smile, he supposed the sight made him… happy? Perhaps, but he could apply many other feelings too. It was always the strain of  _ being _ , he did things and he couldn’t really rationalise why. 

But in this case was there the need to rationalise why? Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t really need to think so long and hard about these things, but day by day Connor felt that he simply  _ felt  _ more, and that in itself was a little terrifying.

Ah, terror was another emotion. There are far too many these days.

“You just gonna stand in the doorway or are you gonna get inside?” Hank said, standing beside him expectantly, keys in hand. “The fuck’s wrong with you today anyway? In fact, what the hell is wrong with you in general. You’ve been like this all week, I’m starting to get worried.”

Connor slipped by Hank and bent down to give Sumo a welcoming pat. 

“I’m sorry Hank. I’ve just been rather… preoccupied as of late.” He replied, giving Sumo a particularly forceful scratch in his favourite spot behind his ear.

“Preoccupied with what? Anything I should be worried about?”

Connor paused, Sumo huffed at his fingers. “Do you ever feel like, everything is a bit too overwhelming? That there’s so much going on inside your head you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do with it all?”

Hank let out a hearty chuckle, “Yeah, it’s called a good time to get shitfaced.” 

“Which is not a viable course of action for myself, and neither should it really be for you.” Connor said chastely. “I mean, how do you make sense of what you’re feeling when you’re not actually sure what it is that you’re feeling?”

“Well… It’s tricky. Emotions are a trigger for something going on in your life. Like uh… If something is worrying you, you might get stressed, or you might get angry. And emotions are cues for you to respond to. If you’re feeling happy then that’s a sign that everything in your life is where it should be, so you’d wanna keep it that way.”

Connor nodded, “I think I’m happy.”

Hank smiled, “Good. That’s good then.”

“What about you? Are you happy?”

Hank paused for a moment, if Connor had been more attentive he might have noticed him sidling his way to the fridge to uncap the glass that was now sat in his hand. The first drink of the week, he supposed he couldn’t berate him too much.

“Yeah.” Hank tipped his head. “Yeah I suppose I am.”

That made Connor feel… happy. At least, happy was the best word to describe it. In fact the feeling was something of that sort but at the same time was something else entirely. The emotion had been at the very tip of his consciousness for a while but now it felt more tangible. Happiness? Who knew? Connor certainly didn’t.

“I’m going to put some food on. I don’t suppose you have my entire medical record up and open to try and shoehorn me into eating something remotely nutritious again tonight do you?”

“I most certainly do lieutenant.” Connor replied instantaneously. 

\-------------------------------------------

 

06:48am. It was perhaps a little too early to stir, but the birds had began singing and Connor awoke to a strange discomfort. Absentmindedly he placed his hand on his chest and watched Sumo slumber quietly, framed by strips of fresh morning sun.

Hank wouldn’t awake for another hour. The house was peacefully quiet and Connor hadn’t quite the heart to break the silence. So instead he sat, in his same spot on the sofa, watching the clock hands tick and playing memories in his head.

The time he woke up, the time he was assigned his first mission, the time he first met Hank. Yes, that was his favourite one, even if his opinion of the man wasn’t especially warm. It certainly was warm now though, Hank was his world. 

Would he have become deviant if it weren’t for him? Likely not. Had he not been in the equation Connor would at this point been scrapped and replaced by a fresh model. Connor had a lot to thank for Hank, back then, and even now. Connor liked to think about Hank. He liked to replay his favourite things about Hank. He just… He really liked Hank.

So when the sound of the alarm clock began to tinny from the hallway, Connor turned his gaze expectantly to Hank’s door. 

Morning Hank was not a graceful beast, but Connor still couldn’t help a wry smile and a, “Good morning Hank!” as a bedraggled mess began to slope it’s way into the bathroom.

“Good morning? Fuck your good morning... Get the hell outta here with that bright eyed and bushy-tailed shit...” Hank was still talking, but as he had slammed the bathroom door shut Connor couldn’t quite hear the rest of it.

Instead he opted to process through the day. The nature of their work had become quite different since the rebellion and Connor found himself at the forefront of emerging Android/Human relations and prickly new Android law. An incident involving frequent attacks on a particularly Android heavy suburb looked to flag itself as their priority of the day. There were recent reports and testimonials suggesting that whoever was responsible was fairly active. Most likely they would stake out the street, collect eyewitness accounts, and potentially bag an easy win. 

Humans could be remarkably predictable. 

Hank barged his way back out into the hallway, looking slightly more, dare he say it, human. 

“So what we got for us today then? You got a homicide to cheer me up this ‘good’ morning?” He asked, as he spooned out perhaps one too many instant coffee granules. 

“Anti-android disturbances on Brookhill Avenue. The culprits haven’t exactly been clever about concealing their identities. We can likely collar a few of them before the day ends.” 

Hank scoffed, “Sounds  _ riveting _ . You really know how to keep a guy on his toes.”

“I do try.” Connor replied amused.

He smiled, and watched Hank’s fingers twirl around his mug. Before he could capture the thought to analyse it further, he noticed Hank’s thick hands and the tiny imperfections scored into his skin. He wondered about the story of small scar tissue on his left index finger, he wondered what the weathered skin of his knuckle would feel like to touch. It became a sudden need, right there and then, that he wanted to take his hand and examine every detail of it.

How strange, he couldn’t quite figure out a logical process to explain the urge.

“Hey? Hello? Earth to Tin-man!” 

Hank had been talking. He knew he had been talking because his auditory processor picked it up. Yet somehow it hadn’t registered. 

“That is offensive terminology an officer such as yourself shouldn't be using.” Connor said.

“Yeah? Well your face is offensive, how about that?” 

“Given we see each other for approximately 14 hours of the day I can’t imagine you find my face that offensive.” 

“Yeah? Well maybe I just have a good stomach.” Hank chuckled, “I’m that much of a kind and generous soul.”

Connor said nothing and let Hank meander around the living room, likely in search of his uniform scattered about from the night before, but before he could stop himself, the words slipped out of his mouth, “Do you... really dislike my face that much?”

Hank paused, dumbfounded, “What? It was a joke Connor. There’s nothing wrong with your face… Even if it is a little dorky.”

“Then… you think I look dorky?”

Hank laughed for a second, then looked back at him. “You’re uh… you’re not actually offended right now are you?”

Connor replied tritely, “I might be.”

“Well, alright then. Fine. Sure. You’re gorgeous sweetheart. Cream of the damn crop. I’m sure Cyberlife sculpted your face out of David’s right asscheek.”

“I may be an android but I can detect sarcasm just fine Lieutenant.” 

Hank fumbled to put his boot on, hand slamming into the wall to find balance.

“Yeah? Then can you also detect where my belt is?” He muttered.

Connor winked, “Only if you tell me how beautiful I am.”

“Listen kid, you keep up the attitude and this case isn’t going to be the only anti-android hate crime you’re going to experience today.”   
  


\-------------------------------------

 

Unsurprisingly, the case only took 2 and a half hours to solve. A 15 minute drive, 30 minutes tallying up statements, 5 seconds for Connor to process four possible matches, an hour to round-up and question said suspects, 25 minutes to arrest and detain, and 20 minutes for Hank to get a hot dog from his favourite stand. That last one probably didn’t count, but Hank insisted sustenance was an important element to any officer’s day.

Hank was eating said hot dog by the river, Connor looked onto the view, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the railing.

“You ever wondered what it’s like to eat?” Hank asked, mouth half-full.

“I guess. I can taste to some extent, if that’s what you mean.” Connor said.

The last bite slipped past Hank’s lips and he shuffled to balance an arm on the railing beside Connor.

“What, so when you run samples you can taste what you’re putting in your mouth?”

He mused. “I would imagine my perception of taste differs from yours. I understand the components of what is in my mouth, and from that I have an understanding of what it theoretically  _ tastes _ like.”

Hank simply shook his head, “Nasty. You’re just real nasty.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Connor observed the high-rise buildings in the distance. They likely needed to pick up another case after lunch, maybe Connor could spy something that would pique Hank’s interest more. He thought. And his mind whirred. And then it began to slow.

Hank’s hand was dangling beside him. Oh yes, he remembered. That niggling  _ thing _ .

His eyes darted down and he noted the soft curl of his fingers at rest by his thigh. It would be easy to just brush past. Just once. To sate his curiosity.

Without being too obvious he dropped his arm and let it drift lazily in the breeze. He couldn’t quite describe the spark of exhilaration as his finger bumped against Hank’s, their skin catching and the soft texture immediately sending goosebumps up his spine.

Could he even get goosebumps? It seemed an unlikely function. Hank hadn’t really noticed the gesture so Connor again let his fingers brush against him. Though regardless of how nice it felt it still didn’t feel enough, perhaps he could capture Hank’s hand, curl his fingers around his. That would feel nice. It would feel fulfilling. It would feel so wonder- 

Hank moved. Connor let out a non-existent breath and tried not to betray an expression of disappointment. What was he thinking anyway? It’s not like Hank would be open and receptive to Connor’s peculiar urges to simply  _ feel _ and  _ touch _ . Irregardless though he felt an odd churning in his insides, like something caught on his gears and stuttering everything else into an ungracious halt.

It felt… uncomfortable. He would daresay it almost felt embarrassing. Suddenly the stimuli around him felt particularly blinding, the wind catching at his audio receptor, the uneven coating of paint on the railing, Hank’s eyes sparkling in the sunlight at the corner of his vision. That unfamiliar feeling, the processing, the errors and inconsistent codes, it felt too much. It all felt far too much. Too much. Far too much. Almost overloading. Overlo-

“Connor?” 

Connor blinked. His facial expression indicated distress, even if the red flashing of his LED wasn’t extremely apparent.  

“Sorry…” Connor started, “Sorry Lieutenant. I was just thinking.”

Hank let out an uneasy huff, “Yeah well you’ve been doing a lot of that recently. Anything you want to talk to me about?”

‘Yes’. Said his internal processing. “No.” Said his lips.

“You know I don’t believe that for a second right?” Hank sighed, “Listen if it’s anything you’re nervous of telling me, like you want to move out or something like that, you know I won’t mind.”

“I don’t want to move out.” Connor responded immediately, perhaps a little too harshly given Hank’s now furrowed brow. 

“Well… ok. How about tonight we just have a night in? You know, movies, I get to eat the popcorn, you get to sit there and complain about scientifically incorrect movie cliches. I ignore you. That sorta thing? And maybe if you’re feeling comfortable enough we can talk about what’s eating you up?”

A night in Hank’s company. A special occasion. That felt… good.

He nodded, “Sure.”

But in the meantime the call of duty awaited. Connor flashed a moment of amber as he picked up news of a potential domestic event concerning an android a few blocks away. It sounded like it was messy. 

“Reports of a violent incident in an apartment not too far from here.” He relayed. “I hope your  _ sustenance _ isn’t going to keep you from keeping up a steady jog Lieutenant.”

“Oh of course.” Hank chided, already breathy as Connor darted away, “Of course the exciting stuff happens when I decide to have some downtime.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

The case was heavy. A household android that had chose to remain and live with their previous owner. Hank said he didn’t see much of a difference between humans and androids, especially when the android was begging them not to prosecute any further. 

Connor wondered what he meant by that. Connor wondered why the android had decided to stay. 

He wasn’t a human, he was an android. Yet he failed to really understand either of the two species. Maybe they weren’t as different as he thought.

Sumo began barking before they had even stepped foot on the front porch. Hank wrestled around for his keys whilst Connor held his shopping, which consisted of things Connor would rather Hank not consume. A light smattering of rain drizzled against the white beam of the porch light and Connor entertained the thought that the stimulation of raindrops down his skin felt cool and pleasant. Not to mention it would feel all the more nicer when they got inside all warm and sunk down onto the sofa.

Connor opted to put away the groceries while Hank fumbled about with yet another one of his obsolete technologies, the DVD player. He could never quite understand the charm, “Owning physical copies is a thousand times better than just having it saved somewhere online! You just don’t get it!”.

When he was finished he slunk down into the corner of the sofa whilst Hank threw off his jacket with a pleased hum. Hank always placed the packet of popcorn between them, even though he knew Connor was incapable of eating it, perhaps he just thought it polite. 

Quite frankly Connor couldn’t care the slightest what Hank put on the TV, it was a mental exercise every single time to discern what Hank found so funny, or sad, or irritating, but regardless the exercise was a fun one. He liked learning what made Hank tick, the scenes, the exposition, the emotion that stirred him.

He wasn’t sure about this one though, it was set in the future but the technology was already in place today.

“I know it’s jarring when they get this stuff wrong, but just look past it ok? You can’t expect people 20 years ago to know the precise date Androids gained sentience.

Hank became fully engrossed in the programme, however Connor had always spent this time observing him in the periphery of his vision. He felt warm when Hank smiled, it was an endless source of enjoyment being with him together like this.

However this time it felt different. There wasn’t any particular mood in the air, nor was anything different about this evening, but as that strange unnamed, unregistered feeling bloomed in his chest, he felt his priorities shifting ever so slightly.

He was close to Hank, closer than he usually was, and as Hank had placed his hand at his side (likely for easier accessibility to the popcorn), Connor couldn’t help the burning urge to take it. Pull his hand into his, slide his fingers over the soft skin on his palm, press against his fingertips, revel in the tactile sensation of that intimacy. 

Rather unconsciously, his eyes had drifted away from the TV screen, to Hank’s unassuming hand sat atop a cushion.

Would he mind?

Would he care?

Connor’s LED stuttered with a variety of colours as he deliberated the possibilities and outcomes. None of them seemed to give him a reasonable estimate of how Hank would react. 

What was his probability of success? His predictive programming hadn’t been adapted for this. Whatever  _ this _ was. But somehow he felt as if he did not grab his hand in that instant something inside him would certainly combust.

He tentatively wiggled his fingers towards him, casually, without much movement, without much attention. It almost seemed as if time stood still, his eyes watching with rapt fascination as he ever so gently began to curl a finger around Hank’s. 

Oh. It felt good. It was the tiniest bit of contact, but somehow just the very act of having that connection made his head buzz with errors and the biocomponents in his chest clink and clank in a way that made him worry he had in fact broken something.

More. He wanted more. He shifted his thumb to slide against Hank’s captured finger, rubbing it between his digits. Wonderful, how could something so meagre feel so good? He was staring with admiration and amazement, but as he was staring he began to realise Hank was staring too.

“Can I… Can I help you?” Hank asked quizzically. 

Connor jolted, but did not let go of Hank’s finger. “I uh… I apologise. I was just curious what your hand would feel like.”

Hank looked even more confused, “What my hand feels like? Connor are you sure you’re okay?”

Connor wasn’t sure. Not in the slightest. The unreadable feeling hiccuped in his chest.

“I suppose I wanted to know what touch felt like. It feels good doing this. I can stop if you don’t like it.”

Hank seemed to mull it over, staring at his own hand as if he couldn’t quite understand what the fascination was. “You know, I don’t and can’t ever understand what it’s like to be an android Connor. But if it’s something that’ll keep you quiet for the next ten minutes then knock yourself out.”

“Just don’t do anything too weird.” He added hastily.

Connor didn’t really know what Hank meant by too weird, but he felt happy enough to be given free-reign over Hank’s bodily appendages.

He splayed out Hank’s wide hand, running his fingertips over the welts and ridges of the creases in his palm. He traced them, dragging a fingernail over the pathways in his skin. Imperfect and uniquely human, the tactile sensation settled warm in his gut. 

He didn’t need to, but as he gently nudged at Hank’s fingertips he ran a scan on his unique bodily identifier. Hank Anderson. Personal information ran through his processing unit at an exhilarating speed. It was almost as if he was consuming his very existence, pulling in every single detail of Hank into his circuitry and running it over and over in his memory.

It was almost enough for him to let out a sigh. His reward centre was firing nonstop, synthetic chemicals and imitation neurotransmitters flooding his body. Hank’s hand. A piece of him. All his, all his to touch.

His thumbs kneaded the fleshy parts of his palm, fingers gliding over the back of his hand. Although he was covering as much of Hank’s skin with his own, it was almost frustrating that so many patches were left bare. Oh, but he could take up those spaces couldn’t he?

Without much thought to the action, he brought Hank’s hand to his face, letting the fingertips graze over his cheeks, soft and gentle and oh so warm. At this distance he could examine all the finer details, a crack in the nail on his middle finger, the jagged grooves and whorls of skin, the hairline wrinkles across his knuckles. It was bordering on sensory overload, but the sheer amount of information assaulting every form of sensory input he could detect caused a burn in his systems that felt so impossibly good.

It could get better, an internal notification told him. He didn’t even really need to think about it. The moment he drew Hank’s fingers over his lips he instinctively let his tongue dip out to slide across his digits. 

A barrage of new and exciting information flooded his vision, human DNA samples, soap residue, remnants of Hank’s hot dog. His chest fluttered and jerked and before he could halt his reactive programming he slid Hank’s fingers into his mouth and groaned with the sensation of it.

It felt so good. This was worth becoming deviant for. The unnamed feeling in his chest pounded so hard through each connective fibre of his body he wasn’t sure how he was even functioning, it felt like electricity reaching in and shocking each and every little part of him.

Connor dragged Hank’s fingers back out of his mouth, grazing his slick tongue as he darted in to curve around as much skin as possible in the process. When Hank’s damp fingers hovered in front of him he was almost mesmerised by the sight, lubricant sparkling against the screen light, and he bent to repeat the action again.

Hank quickly yanked his hand away.

“All right. That’s quite enough of that.” He said, voice gravelly.  

Connor blinked. He had at least 5 indicators popping up in his vision informing him that sticking fingers into his mouth was a socially inappropriate action and to cease all activities immediately. He turned to look at Hank, almost sheepish. 

“Sorry Lieutenant, I assume that is what you meant by doing something weird.” He paused, “Have I upset you?”

Hank had turned his position to be approximately 15 degrees further away from him. In addition, he was refusing to meet his eyes. That indicated discomfort if his understanding was correct. 

The unnamed feeling subsided and was replaced with worry.

“No, you haven’t upset me.” Hank spoke gruffly, “Think I’m going to turn in for the night anyway. I forgot this guy can’t act for shit, 30 more minutes of this and I’ll start thinking you’re the pinnacle of conversation.”

“But it’s only 9pm.”

Hank slide off the sofa and shrugged, “Been a hard day, I had to jog. Really takes it out of you at the ripe age of 53.”

Connor protested further, “I’ve memorised your sleeping patterns, this is unusual behaviour for you. If my actions upset you I would rather we talk about it than-”

“I’m not upset! Jesus Connor!” Hank said, “I’m just tired alright. I’m going to bed, goodnight!”

Connor watched as the bedroom door slammed shut. Now he was left only with a dozing Sumo and a movie he had only paid approximately 10% of his attention to.

This emotion certainly felt unpleasant. He threaded his fingers together and gazed into nothingness, ignoring the heavy weight of his social program shooting a hundred different directives into his head in an attempt to repair any harm done to his relationship with Hank.

It was in this moment Connor wished he had the capability to sleep, shut off every single prompt and completely black out for 7-8 hours. Standby mode was his closest alternative.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lovelies for your reviews, they make me smile!
> 
> Honestly I don't think I can call this slow burn but I'm 8.5k in and they ain't even touched peepees yet damn..... I just want them to be sappy and in love ;-;

Connor hadn’t been expecting an easy ride since the Android revolution, but he certainly never ceased to be surprised by the brutal nature of humanity.

Initial sources had termed it the Corpus Virus, a piece of malware specifically designed to target Androids. The case was sitting on their desks the moment they walked in, Fowler telling them in no uncertain terms that this was their priority for the time being. A mere passing glance at the function of the virus presented no surprise. Its purpose was total obedience, the way machines  _ should _  be.

He had always maintained an air of detachment to things of this sort: brutality, murder, cruelty, but as he grew more and more  _ human  _ they always left him with a sense of unease. This is was what life is, logical processes can lead to either morally good actions, or morally bad actions depending on the purpose of said task, but humanity was always messy and illogical. Violent, wild, unpredictable, it made his core programming strain.

But with Hank… well he enjoyed the unpredictable.

In current circumstances however it was serving as a source of stress. Hank was hardly speaking to him, conversation was trite, and try as he might to engage Hank in some meaningful communication he had barely said more than a few sentences since the previous night.

The previous night. Oh the previous night. Connor would be lying if he said he would take his actions back, if only he could make Hank understand it was all a big misunderstanding. What the misunderstanding was however he couldn’t particularly answer, but he’d formulate any form of excuse or apology to get Hank to engage with him again.

He sat quietly, thumbing over a stack of briefings he had insisted had to be in paper form rather than on an easily accessible computer terminal. Connor watched him out of the corner of his eye, currently scanning through a multitude of online postings concerning the Corpus Virus and its supposed effects. Part of his code betrayed him as he eyed over Hank’s large hands.

Ignore. Remove that urge.

“Have you ever thought about redecorating the house?” He said conversationally.

Hank squinted at him, “You what?”

“I was thinking the house could do with a touch-up.” He announced, as he skim-read over a graphic depiction of a double homicide, “The colour combinations and layout of a home can have an impact on your emotional state, I’m sure I could come up with something to suit your tastes.”

“No.” Hank said, “No thank you.”

Ah, and there it was again. Silence. The discomfort was enough to stop him for the briefest of moments, worry niggling at the corners of his lips as his LED turned a tell-tale red. This was torture, agony, the most frustrating thing Connor had to contend with and he had absolutely no idea of how to fix it. It almost as if their relationship had reverted, time had gone backwards and he was sitting in front of Hank on his very first day attempting to get him to feel anything other than hatred.  

Hank’s eyes blinked upwards, and suddenly he screeched his chair backwards.

“Alright, outside, in the car, we’re going to talk.”

Connor immediately stood up from his desk and followed Hank outside.

There was a definite chill in the air today, Connor didn't have the capacity to feel the repercussions of it but Hank tugged at the lapels of his coat, breath misting ever so slightly from his lips. The staff car park was dead, it was the middle of the day and everyone was either inside or out elsewhere and would be for the next 2-3 hours or so.

Hank opened up the car and hopped into the driver’s seat, Connor looked down at him and felt something akin to hesitation. This wasn’t going to be one of those  _ bad _  talks was it? Already his programming was firing possibilities at him, “Hank does not wish to be friends any more.”, “Hank wants me to move out.”, it was enough to make him stall. He suddenly felt as if he didn’t want to get into the car, instead he wanted to walk straight out of the car park and off into some unknown direction to avoid the conversation.

Perplexing. There certainly wasn’t any logic in that.

“You’re going red again.” Hank barked at him, “Get in the damn car.”

Connor sat in the passenger side and shut the door.

There was silence between them again, Hank stared through the windscreen and let out an uneasy noise, “Right. You’re going to have to be really honest with me Connor.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” He paused for a few moments, “What the hell is going on with you?”

Connor opened his mouth but Hank quickly interjected, “Ok ok, wait. I’ll be as succinct as I possibly can, why did you do what you did last night?”

It took Connor a few moments to formulate a response, because frankly he wasn’t even sure himself.

“Because it felt good.” He said.

Hank rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “Alright sure. And what specifically felt  _ good _ ?”

Again, he was at a loss for words. None of this was in his programming, he could make assumptions and hypotheses but fundamentally he knew his actions were less the machinations of code and more… something else. Was this what deviancy was? At the very heart of it, was it a messy combination of conflicting and disordered processing? Action without meaning? Nonsense pathways and inane prompts?

“Don’t overthink it.” Hank interrupted his thoughts, “Just run me through everything you’ve been thinking these past few days, don’t sugarcoat anything. Start from the top to the bottom.”

Connor let out a simulated breath, threading his fingers in an almost anxious twitch. “I’ve started to feel strange.”

“What kind of strange?”

“As if… As if my chest feels tight and my limbs freeze up. Like I have these fleeting thoughts and urges and there isn’t much of a logical process behind it. I don’t… quite understand why.”

Hank let out a loud breath, “Ok, sure, and yesterday?”

“Yesterday I suppose I found an outlet for that feeling.”

He wasn’t sure if that’s what Hank wanted to hear. A strange bemused expression began to fall over his face and he couldn’t determine what that meant. Suddenly he felt acutely aware of how little data he had for a situation like this, whatever this was. It made him feel nervous, it made him feel uncomfortable. He was used to a world he could analyse and deconstruct but this was something he was never designed to understand. Emotion. A human connection. The… desire for a connection.

Where did this leave them?

It almost startled him when Hank reached over and clasped his hand over his, his body instantly running hot.

“What are you thinking now?” Hank asked.

In response Connor placed his other hand atop his, sensors flickering and spiking at the warmth between his palms. Connor didn’t have a heart, but he was sure that if his thirium pump was such an organ it would be pounding in his chest.

“That I like this, that I like  _ you _ .” He said truthfully.

Hank didn’t give him a reply and opted to stare out of the window again, but his hand remained put. Connor was thankful, if he couldn’t put it into words how he was feeling then actions would have to do.

He didn’t want to admit it, but that urge was building up again. A steady baseline hum as he watched Hank’s profile, and noted the little aspects of his face that he liked. He liked how Hank looked, he liked his facial hair and his eyes and his mouth. Getting intimate with the details of Hank’s hands were all well and good, but there was so much of him he hadn’t yet explored. He wondered what it would be like to put his hands in his hair, to bury his head in the crook of his neck, to reach under his clothes and feel his skin- Oh.

What was that? Connor wasn’t touching Hank in the same way as he was last night, but suddenly that electricity began to simmer under his skin. He realised in that moment that he wanted to consume every single aspect and detail of Hank, it was a personal directive. He wanted it. He wanted it more than the satisfaction of a completed mission.

“Hank I-”

‘ _ I want you. _ ’ But what did that mean? In what way?

“I want you to give me your verdict.”

“My verdict huh?” Hank spoke, his voice heavy. “I can’t give you a verdict Connor. This is something you have to work out on your own, I’m not going to influence you or put ideas into your head. Only you can answer that question, you’re a free person now remember?”

“I know that.” He replied, voice tight. That wasn’t the answer he wanted. “Hank I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the first time I met you, you’re all I ever think about. Whether you like it or not, you’re the most important person in my life and my feelings are growing into something more.”

Hank swore, “Jesus Connor! This is what I’m worried about! I’m the only person in your life, I mean do you even know the difference between friendly feelings and romantic feelings? Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”

Irritability prickled at the back of his neck, “For someone who wants to give me the liberty of free thought, you’re doing an exceptional job of assuming my feelings for me Lieutenant.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant!” Hank spat back. “You only ever spend your time with me, how can you say you like me when I’m the  _ only _  person you like?”

“I like Markus, I like North, I like Simon, I like  _ Sumo _ , I can name you countless people who I like Hank, but I don’t like any of them the same way that I like you!” Connor didn’t mean to yell, nor did he mean to slam his hand into the dashboard with such force it made Hank physically jump. Suddenly, he was angry. He was so angry. It wasn’t his fault he felt this way, it wasn’t his fault Hank made him feel this way, and he certainly wasn’t going to sit there and be told that his newly found emotions were just a  _ misunderstanding _ .

The quiet that filled the car was suffocating. The miasma seemed to sink through his skin, down his throat, and curl and curl and curl into the wires and pistons in his body. He didn’t know what to say. His social programming had stopped its processes. There would be no prompt, no simulation, he was never designed to feel but here he was feeling too much.

For the first time in a while his mind was quiet. The usual cacophony of information and deliberation grinding to an ungainly halt and piercing silence and static occupying its space.

His head hit the back of the headrest and he stared blankly out into the dull concrete gray of the Detroit police car park.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Hank spoke.

“I just… don’t want to fuck this up.”

Connor turned to look at him.

“You’re the only good thing in my life since…” He trailed off, voice quiet. “Connor if I didn’t have you I don’t know where I’d be. Drinking myself into a stupor, probably dead in a ditch somewhere. I’m scared, I’m scared of losing you, scared of messing this all up.”

He felt a sudden pressure on his hand, he looked down to see Hank squeezing his palm tightly.

“Promise me you’ll think about it. Think about what it is you’re feeling, think about what you want to do about it. I’ll accept the answer no matter what it is. You make the decision where you want things to go okay?”

The vice-like grip on his insides subsided, the music in head chiming with gentle notes. He squeezed Hank’s hand back in response.

“Okay. I promise Hank.” Connor said softly. “I’ll think properly about all of this, but please don’t ever think you could fuck this up.”   
  


\------------------------------------

When Hank had told him to  _ think _  about it, he was certain his intention was for him to spend some duration of time contemplating the intricacies of his emotions. What Hank probably wasn’t intending was for Connor to be dedicating approximately 15% of his computing power nonstop to the task of, “What do I feel for Hank?”. Even whilst he was trying to compile evidence, quickly scanning through hundreds upon hundreds of eyewitness accounts, testimonials, and missing android incidents to link in with the current case, his mind was playing over the concepts in his head.

They were thought exercises of that sort, scenarios played out, online searches for particular keywords, all coming together to solve an ultimatum of his boundless affection towards Hank. If Connor was to be truthful, he didn’t think any of this was helping. In fact it was just making it worse.

His programming had never been designed for emotion, so when he touched into the areas of himself that did feel, the tangled maladroit layers of code upon code upon code, all he was met with was a barrage of error messages and ‘System Instability’ popups. This was adding to it, every extra piece of thought added to the web. He could almost  _ feel _  it growing inside of himself.

Something that wasn’t meant to be there. Something not part of the original design. Something that was… his own. Unique, original, all his to possess.

The conundrum only grew, but his mood only brightened.

Hank had remained quiet for the rest of the day, only perking up to ask how Connor was getting on, or excusing himself for a snack or a caffeine top-up. Connor supposed that Hank was very much thinking about how he himself felt, as much as Connor was.

He supposed he didn’t mind it, but it did leave a melancholy ache in his chest. Part of him wished he hadn’t pushed the boundaries of their relationship if only because he missed the idle chat the two of them had during the day.

But things had to progress, things had to remain in motion. That was life, life evolves and changes. In the same way technology adapts and improves, so do the relationships and personalities of people. If anything, it only proved his deviancy. He was breaking the mould, he was changing and growing. It felt exciting.

He could barely handle his tense wound-up energy when the day ended and Hank motioned to him to pack up. He had so many thoughts, so many things he wished to discuss with Hank.

If Connor was expecting much of a discussion out of their car ride home however, he was disappointed. Hank cranked up the CD player and a barrage of sound accompanied their journey back, which Connor had identified as  _ Metallica.  _ He wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he would tell Hank he did if only to make him pause and fluster. He enjoyed Hank’s more uncommon behaviours: cautiousness, confusion, embarrassment, they were so uniquely him that they made him smile.

It had started to rain by the time they pulled into the driveway, Hank glanced out at the hammering rain on the window and grimaced. It was quiet for a couple of moments, the only sound the steady pattering drumbeat on the roof of the car.

“I’ve been thinking, like you told me.” Connor stated.

“You know when I told you to think about it I didn’t mean literally right there and then yeah?”

“I know that, but I thought you’d like to be updated on my progress.” He said.

Hank stared at him wearily for a few moments then gestured, “Sure, go ahead.”

“The more I think about things the more intense they feel. I may not be able to give you a definitive answer yet but I know at the very least my feelings towards you are wholly genuine.” Connor smiled, “Thank you for requesting me to do this. I’ve found it very enlightening so far.”

Hank scoffed, “ _ Enlightening _ . All that from little old me huh?”

“You’re anything but little Hank, but I concur you have helped me more than you know.”

“Is that a smart-ass way of calling me fat?”

“No.” Connor paused. “I would say you’re  _ robust _ .”

“Yeah yeah, you keep digging that hole.” Hank said, with a tiny smile.

Connor had noticed his hesitancy to get out of the car, and he highly doubted that the downpour was solely to blame. When he thought about it more though, he realised that the confinement of the car felt almost intimate in a way. A tiny compact space, isolated and shut off from the rest of the world, and its only inhabitants being themselves and the soft whispers of the outside. Like a slice of reality, almost like the garden where he would meet Amanda, except this felt far more real, more raw.

Gently, he took Hank’s hand in his own, eyes direct as Hank turned to look at him cautiously.

“You really like holding my hand don’t you?”

“I do.” He said resolutely.

Feeling daring, he brought Hank’s hand up to press against the curve of his cheek, quietly marvelling in the warmth against his tactile receptors and the softness of his skin. It surprised him when suddenly the hand began to move of its own free will, curving around to brush at the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, thumb grazing across the line of his jaw. He melted into the touch, eyes instinctively fluttering shut as Hank's hand nuzzled against him.

“I really wish you wouldn’t look like that.” Hank murmured, pressing his thumb into the shallow dip beneath his mouth.

“Like what?” Connor enquired, knowing exactly how he looked at that moment.

It felt like a personal success, a win entirely of his own design, when Hank leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips. The heady jolt fed straight into the knot of code inside his chest. It wormed its way in and expanded it, the reams of data flooding his body, reaching in to every wire and connector and filling him with such gentle gentle heat.

Nothing could compare to this, Hank’s face pressed against his, feeling his hair brush against his synthetic skin. The fragmented reality inside the car tapered down to just them, connected, Hank’s lips upon his own.

It was only a gentle kiss, Hank leaned back a mere few seconds after and looked at him with something heavy and unreadable in his eyes. Connor did not allow him time to process his actions, he placed both his hands around Hank’s neck and pulled him in for another embrace.

He didn’t know how to kiss. Not really, he was doing online searches on the fly, but he was painfully aware that Cyberlife had equipped him with the most basic of all human functionalities and placed little care in the ones that would hardly ever be used. If anything though, he was highly adaptable, and it became extremely apparent by Hank’s body language which of his efforts were the least effective.

Connor kissed his mouth, he didn’t want to stop. He could feel his thirium pump pounding and could feel Hank’s heartbeat skipping against his lips. Every unnameable emotion inside of him rejoiced at just how close he was to Hank, just how much of a symbolic gesture this was to most. He could feel Hank’s hair in his hands, and he could taste his humanity on his lips.

Like most of his heavily deviant thoughts, the one that cropped up in his notifications instructing him to slide a tongue into Hank’s mouth to sample was one he followed on impulse.

The low husky groan that fell from Hank’s throat when he pushed into his mouth was something that immediately caused a few processes of his to temporarily lose function. He jerked at the sudden loss of control, limbs falling limp, but quickly regained it and slid his hands around Hank’s handsome face. There was so much information, so much of Hank pinging against his system. Saliva samples offered far more detailed genetic information and he could only indulge in Hank’s very essence.

The sensation buzzing in his head and the electric shocks running through his body was an experience that felt so very addicting. He didn’t want to stop, he just wanted more, the more he consumed the more his processing came up with a hundred more actions and desires to pursue. It was like opening the proverbial pandora’s box, there was so much more, so much more to do and explore.

“Connor,” Hank protested against his mouth, “Connor this is killing my neck.”

Connor blinked at him, “I understand.” He then unclipped his seatbelt and climbed over to settle on Hank’s lap.

“Jesus Connor! That isn’t what I meant!”

He hadn’t much time to utter another word before Connor grabbed hold of him and pushed him back against the headrest, his mouth instantly smothering his own. He delighted in the muffled grunt that left his lips, noted the slight shudder as Connor pressed his tongue back into his mouth.

Hank’s hands wound themselves around the small of his back, pressing him flush against his hard body. The pressure felt heavenly, the touch of Hank running all over. Connor could not interface with Hank the way he would another android, but the things he could detect, his senses, touch, smell, hearing, sight, taste, were enough that he could simply envision the experience. He could fixate all of his receptors to overload himself on the data of Hank’s existence and that felt good enough.

When Hank’s hands began to slip lower, Connor hadn’t quite anticipated his system’s response. Cyberlife had equipped him with all human functionalities, but the more carnal parts, the functional organs and the programs associated had very much remained dormant for all of his lifespan. If the situation arose that he should so need them then they would have a use, but the intention was never there as for them to be an everyday part of his existence. And so, Connor had not really expected much out of such extras, but when Hank squeezed against his ass and slid a hand down along the back of his thigh he was very much unprepared for the sudden barrage of information and re-calibration that shot and shook his very body.

The dormant programming booted up, it interfaced with his CPU, it recalculated the necessary pathways and tactile components, the program rewrote the needed areas of his code, the program instantly nestled into the deviant coding lodged somewhere in his data stores and added yet another large overwhelming interconnecting branch. All the while, in real terms, Connor let out an aborted stuttering noise as his eyes blinked wildly and he jerked in Hank’s arms.

“Connor?” Hank said nervously, “You alright there?”

Oh, oh, so many new things to explore, he felt his simulated breathing grow harsh.

“I’m fine Hank.” Connor wasted little time in caging Hank against the car seat but Hank firmly pressed against his chest.

“Enough. Let’s wind this down a bit ok? We’re in a driveway.”

He sat and watched Hank’s expression, but eventually ceded, slipping from his lap and reseating himself at the passenger side. Hank let out a loud flustered breath, swiping some lone hairs from his face.

“So… how did that feel?” Hank asked eventually.

“I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot, I’d like to do more.”

Hank let out a bewildered laugh, “God, fuck’s sake. Connor please tell me you’re going to sit and think on it a bit more, I can’t help but think I’m leading you down some dark seedy path.”

“In what way would you be leading me down a dark and seedy path? I was very much an active participant in this as you were.”

Hank shrugged, “You’re still so new to the world and new to thinking for yourself, I worry about influencing you in a way that may not be in your best interests.”

Connor contemplated his words for a few moments, but realistically he couldn’t see any way that Hank would have forced something that wasn’t already there. He wanted this, genuinely, he was fully informed in that fact.

“Please be assured, my actions are entirely my own and entirely wanted. I understand your worries but I do… have a very particular interest in you, this progression feels natural.”

That seemed to relax Hank, he glanced over at him thoughtfully before blowing out another long gust of air.

“Let’s get inside, I need to uh… adjust.”

“Adjust?” Connor cocked his head ever so slightly.

“You know… Realign, let things die down.”

“I am not following.”

Hank raised a quizzical brow at him and articulated towards the lower portion of his body, “Bring down the mast.”

Connor remained quiet.

“I’m hard Connor.”

“Oh.” Connor thought over that image for a few seconds and stored it somewhere to ruminate over another time.

Hank let out an uneasy snort and shoved the door open, the outside world immediately pouring back into his consciousness with a rush of sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should just have a running theme where I end every chapter with Hank getting a boner


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so it seems a coincidence that I decided to get into Detroit a few months before Bryan Dechart announces he's making a UK appearance. My sins have now come to face me. I will spend most of this convention wrestling with my conscience. If you note a Kara cosplayer with an exceptionally guilty look on their face, you may have identified me.
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------
> 
> Anyway ye we getting real horny in here and I don't apologise, again gomen for the comments and kudos!!!
> 
> I've debated it and Connor has a dick cos I just don't wanna b fucking about here. But I still wanted to add an 'alien' element in here because if my AO3 record has proven anything it's that I'm a nasty monster girl fucker at heart.

It is precisely 2 days, 4 hours, and 38 minutes when Hank next kisses him. The counter had been an involuntary fixture in his HUD, subconsciously kept in place no matter how many times Connor tried to dismiss it. 

He had been halfway through an impassioned speech about how their latest lead, an android with an atrocious attitude problem, had been withholding crucial evidence. He was reeling off the many reasons why he should have simply forced into his memory, Android rights be damned, when Hank dropped his cutting knife with a chuckle and kissed Connor on the cheek.

If it was done with the intention of silencing him, it had worked. 

“You don’t mean that. Doubt the kid had much on him anyway, think he was just being uppity for the thrill of it.” Hank said, voice interspersed with the sharp  _ thock _ of the cutting knife. “Also I don’t think he particularly liked you.”

Connor regained himself, frowning. “Well I didn’t like him either.”

“And that’s free will! You’re free to dislike and like who you wish, which is the reason you’re stood in my kitchen with me and not with someone who actually has their life together.”

Connor felt something snuffling at his leg and looked down to see Sumo, staring up at them with big bright hungry eyes. 

Hank clicked his tongue, “Of course you came over to see what all the fuss is about. I’m not giving you cheese it gives you the shits.”

Sumo apparently did not understand the human language, or he chose to ignore it, he slumped down at their feet with an ungracious sigh. Connor couldn’t help but to kneel down and scratch at the soft fur of his ears. 

“See? You’re spoiling him, this is his tactic, you’re playing right into his hands Connor.”

Connor smiled, giving him a hearty pat as Sumo rolled ever so slightly to his side to give ample access to the sweet spot. (i.e, the tummy.) “That’s not true. Sumo is a good boy!”

“Hmph. Master manipulator more like.”

“There is no need to feel jealous Lieutenant. I can also provide you with physical affection if you so wish.” He said playfully.

“Connor given your recent track record of  _ physical affection  _ I’d take that as a proposition, and I’m halfway through a lasagna.”

Ah. That did make him stall for a few moments. It was not as if he hadn’t considered the strange world of human sexual interactions, but the notion of doing so with Hank? It made a few processes fizzle out, as if the complexity of thought and emotion was so much that they couldn’t quite come up with a suggestion for it.

Hank. Hank in a sexual context. How did that make him feel? Doing things with Hank in a sexual context. How would that feel? He simply did not know, he could only think of pressing against him in the car and the uncontrollable exhilarating thrill that hummed in his body. That felt good. How would other things feel? What did Hank like? What would Hank want? They were questions that could only be answered through investigation. 

He liked investigating. 

“Why did you wait 2 days, 4 hours, and 38 minutes before kissing me again?” He asked suddenly.

Hank stuttered, “Why did I-? Why was that so specific!?”

“I am very precise.” Connor replied matter-of-factly. 

“Well you’re the one who’s supposed to be thinking this over!” Hank retorted. “And… you can initiate things yourself you know? I have left the  _ onus _ of all this onto you after all.”

Connor thought over it for a few seconds, “Then I would like to kiss you. May I?”

“You don’t have to ask…” Hank had turned away from him to twist clumsily at a tin opener. If Connor were to make an assumption based on his social programming, he would say that Hank was embarrassed in this situation. How… endearing.

He stood up and curved an arm around Hank’s, leaning over to gently, carefully, softly, press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. When Hank finally turned to face him, Connor took advantage to slip his arms around his neck and smother his lips. A surprised grunt vibrated against his mouth, Connor shut his eyes and focused on the many sensory inputs flowing through his system. 

No matter how much he tasted Hank, swilled his data inside of him and savoured the taste, he couldn’t get enough of it. It pinged at his artificial reward centre, spoke to the very code in his body, he  _ loved _ this, he loved… Hank. He loved Hank. He was suddenly so very sure of that fact. 

“I’d like to enter into a relationship with you.” He said immediately after pulling his tongue from Hank’s mouth. 

“Why are you saying that like I’m signing up for a solicitor?” Hank mumbled, face reddening ever so slightly. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this. About what I want, about what I want from you. I think this is the best way to articulate my feelings. I’d like to be in a relationship with you.”

Of course, predictive programming couldn’t prepare him for this. Relationships were never a facet in Android functionality, aside from the intimacy models of course. Connor had always been equipped with slightly more extras than the average Android given his unique status, but even the most advanced of companion technology couldn’t fathom this. The overwhelming churn of emotion, the feelings so extreme and powerful and frantic they practically made every nanofibre of his being feel so  _ alive _ . 

The unknown scared him, but this, the unknown with Hank, this made him so excited. 

Hank rested his hands on Connor’s hips, the pressure made him buzz. “I-I guess that’s okay. I mean, we need to have a sit down and go through the details of all of this.”

“Now  _ you’re _ sounding like a solicitor.”

“I want to clarify a few things, like I wanna be real clear about what you mean as a  _ relationship _ .”

Connor nodded, “I am happy to answer any and all questions.”

Hank grumbled for a few moments, clamoring around Connor to flick off the oven hob. “Okay, well, first off, explain to me what you think a relationship is?”

“A romantic coupling, an agreement between two people that they will dedicate their affections to one another.”

“And you want that, with me?”

“Absolutely.”

Hank bobbed his head, eyes darting to the side nervously. “What exactly do you like so much about me?”

It took a fraction of a second, Connor’s LED blinking orange, before Connor answered him, “Everything.”

“You can’t just say that Connor! You can’t say you like everything about me!”

“Well… I don’t like your atrocious self-medicating habits.” Connor said.

Sumo at this point had realised the attention had been drawn away from him, Connor felt a pressure lift from his leg as the St Bernard ambled back to his bed. 

“That’s something at least.” Hank mused, watching Sumo curl into the cushioning. Connor had expected the conversation to continue, but Hank remained silent. He observed quietly as Hank scraped the contents of his frying pan into a tray, mouth pulled taut into a straight line.

What could he say? What should he say? He started to feel nervous as he considered the fact that Hank hadn’t outright agreed to a relationship with him. Perhaps he had misjudged, made the wrong assumptions from the information presented to him. If Hank didn’t mind holding his hand and kissing him, then surely a relationship shouldn’t be out of the question? Was it really so presumptuous of him to assume that Hank also wanted a relationship?

It occurred to him then and there, that he hadn’t considered an alternate viewpoint. 

“Hank, how do  _ you _ feel about me?” He asked.

Hank met his eyes, an emotion brimming at the surface. He didn’t have enough information to make a judgement, but something about his expression made his insides feel as if they were being squeezed.

He could hardly stop himself from jittering when Hank reached out a hand and stroked against the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“I like you Connor, I like you a lot. I like you far too much that I worry about pushing your boundaries.”

Connor reverently brought his palm up to cup over Hank’s. “You can push my boundaries. You can push them as much as you like.”

“You say that,” Hank sighed loudly, “But do you really know what that means? Do you have any idea how far this can go?” 

“I don’t.” Connor replied truthfully, “But I’d like to find out.”

Whether that appeased Hank, Connor couldn’t tell, but Hank let his hand and the moment drop. 

“Give me a few days just to think this over alright? And I don’t suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to do some more research.”

“I understand.”

Hank began to rather ungracefully tear open a box of pasta sheets. “I mean it! There are different kinds of relationships out there and some don’t really have to involve…” He tapered off, visibly struggling with a particular line of thought, “Do… do you…?”

“Do I…?”

Connor didn’t miss the rather obvious glance down at his crotch. 

Hank flustered, “Nevermind.”

Connor minded, he minded what thoughts Hank was having about his crotch. He truthfully had never explored the possibility Hank had wanted to delve into the sexual nature of things, he frankly didn’t have a libido but Hank, a human male, certainly did. That excited him, it excited him that of all the people to have sexual thoughts about, Connor was the person he had selected.

The very image, the very notion of Hank’s unclothed body against his, experiencing Hank in a different way, hearing and seeing Hank in a different way, hit him straight in the gut. Perhaps he did not have a libido, but that certainly did not mean he didn’t feel some notion of a sensation humans might call desire.

Connor added yet another task to his ongoing Hank-related schedule.

 

\--------------------------

 

It had been the following day, when those thoughts and feelings were gradually building up to an almost unbearable crescendo, that Connor decided to take action. He had consumed as much as his processing could take, reams and reams of conversation topics, romance stories, imagery, varying cultural accounts of different forms of intimacy, but fundamentally it made little sense to him. 

These were other people’s relationships, none of them were his and  _ Hank’s.  _

It became very clear that no amount of information he could consume and analyse would ever really touch upon how he felt, how Hank made him feel. It was almost lonely in a sense that he couldn’t quite articulate the specificity of his emotions, but perhaps that sensation came from the ever confusing ache and absence of his functional social processing.

He had wanted to talk to Hank about this further, but he replayed Hank’s words. ‘ _ Just a few more days to work this out, to decide what I want _ .’

So when Hank had asked if Connor wanted to accompany him on his weekend grocery shop, Connor refused. He noted the slight surprise on his face, given that Connor went with him absolutely anywhere and everywhere, but nodded and closed the door.

When the growl of the engine started, Connor decided to sit up from the couch and make his way into Hank’s bedroom.

Connor had a base olfactory receptor, he likely couldn’t experience smell in the same way Hank did, but nonetheless he felt a sudden rush of heat as he entered his room and the distinct scent of Hank hit him. He observed Hank’s messy, mussed up bed sheets, his pajamas crumpled on the floor, and the bright dress wear peeking out from the half ajar wardrobe.

These were all Hank’s things, things Hank liked.

He perched nervously at the edge of the bed, hands sat in his lap, thinking for a few moments before unclipping his belt and sliding down his trousers. 

He had never used the thing, let alone touched it. He knew its general purpose but frankly he never needed to use it. He held his limp synthetic penis in his hand and considered it.

Most androids didn’t have something like this, and those that did were condemned to a life of only ever using it. He didn’t really understand the point, he supposed there might have been the intention of needing to sleep with a human to achieve optimal results, maybe a suspect, maybe with Hank.

Maybe with Hank… The thought did nothing for his penis, but it did make a breath cut short, sound catching in his vocal box.

Was he doing this wrong? He understood the mechanics of sex, but it didn’t seem to be helping him much. The hardware had definitely been integrated with his system since Hank touched the back of his leg, it was operational, so why wasn’t much happening?

Out of interest he touched the places Hank did, his ass, the insides of his thigh. 

Nothing.

Bemused, he opened up the increasingly popular android-only forums. They were places coded in such a language that humans could only read if they were using some kind of software, but to his knowledge few had decoded its contents correctly. 

He searched keywords, he looked up his biocomponents’ manufacturing number. Rather unhelpfully it became clear that his biocomponents were a slightly adjusted model in comparison to the other makes out there.

Which meant there was no clear comparison to make. 

Regardless he looked up the biocomponents that did have the most functional similarity. Mostly they were discussing malfunctions in rather uncomfortable situations, but Connor browsed further and noted an extremely popular post that had a good 10,000+ views.

‘ _ Custom Mod Software! Downloads in the links below! _ ’

‘ _ Most intimacy biocomponents are human touch activated and don’t provide the tactile and pleasure responses that we androids deserve! The time is now to take hold of everything our creators have given us! Myself and user BobAG3000 have been working together to bring you this verified mod package to allow you to explore your components to your thirium pump’s content! _ ’

Connor had always strayed far away from custom programmes, it was something borne of distrust and disinterest. Given the recent spread of Android related malware he hardly wanted to take the chance, and simply he was happy the way he was, why did he need to add anything else?

But if this was true, then how would he be able to give Hank a definitive answer in regards to whether he wanted their relationship to be sexual as well? Wouldn’t it be a false sell to say he wanted sex, when really he wasn’t sure if he could even feel pleasure from it?

He spent a good few moments deliberating it, before selecting the download button. Immediately as the foreign code entered his system he was barraged with warning messages, 

_ ‘Unlicensed programmes not originating from Cyberlife certified companies may be harmful to your system, are you sure you want to proceed?’ _

Yes.

_ ‘Warning: This software may not be compatible with your system. Unintended errors may occur.’ _

Slightly disconcerting, especially considering this piece of programming hadn’t been made with Connor’s unique components in mind. Regardless he pressed on.

The file itself wasn’t particularly large, he could feel a strange flicker in various locations around his body as his code began to remap and realign in accordance to new instructions. Finally, when the software had finished downloading and installing, Connor decided to grab at himself again with renewed interest.

Nothing.

Aside from a strange tingle in his components which wasn’t there previously, nothing happened. 

With a defeated sigh he let himself fall backwards, head hitting Hank’s still ever so slightly warm pillow. Perhaps he couldn’t commit to a sexual relationship in the way Hank might want, but at the very least he wouldn’t mind if Hank wanted to use him that way. He imagined that any sexual activity with him would feel wonderful if only for the psychological effect of it.

He twisted his head and caught at Hank’s smell from the pillowcase beneath him. His presence was more prominent here, he imagined all the data and information stored in these sheets, he wondered how Hank slept, was there a certain position he liked? He took a hand and smoothed it across the duvet, burying his head in Hank’s pillow and breathing him in.

It felt good, it made him feel heady, suddenly he was acutely aware of where he was and what he was doing. Hank’s private space, Hank’s  _ everything _ around him, he took in another deep breath and  _ shuddered _ .

A gradual feeling began to ping at his consciousness, he moved his bare legs across Hank’s bedsheets and felt something inside him grow warm. It felt good, it felt good in the usual way it did, pleasure spiking in his body, but it also started to feel different. 

He grabbed at the duvet and pulled it closer to himself, imagining it was Hank in his arms and not a large sheet of cotton. Suddenly he felt a twinge, unusual activity he wasn’t quite used to experiencing.

His HUD told him the biocomponent had activated, completely of its own volition. How strange, he peered down to see the component peering back at him, hard and taut. 

It felt odd to snake his hand down, to gently grab at his erection. A small amount of pleasure buzzed in his head, he fisted around his cock and openly gasped at the sudden surge of sensation. It felt filthy and wonderful all at once, he writhed around in Hank’s bed and when he took another breath to sample against his olfactory sensors the information fed straight into his biocomponent with a thick heavy lurch.

Oh, oh. Everything seemed to drown out, he clutched at the duvet tighter and when he imagined he was clutching at Hank and that it was Hank’s hand stroking up and down his cock he couldn’t help the low guttural moan that fell from his mouth. 

He wanted this, he wanted this with Hank absolutely. He wanted it so much it almost made him want to scream. Disregarding Hank’s comments about hygiene, he opened his mouth and stuffed it with Hank’s covers, groaning at the rush of information that flooded his system. He bit down hard and felt his hand grip tighter, pulling at his erection with a wet sort of squish. 

It was then he had identified another related biocomponent booting up. He hadn’t been foolish enough to disregard the wider world of sexual intercourse, but frankly he hadn't an idea of what Hank actually preferred.  

The lubricant that normally coated his mouth and functioned in various other aspects of his body began to seep, seep from his cock, seep from the tight hole between his legs. Curiously, he took his other hand and wound his way to his ass, fingers slipping into the groove of his body and gently pressing at the skin around his entrance. 

It felt sensitive, far more sensitive than Connor had anticipated. It was slick and wet, undoubtedly leaking into the covers underneath him. He pressed a finger in and gasped, pushing against a velvety texture and the ridges of his insides. He pushed in deeper, he pushed another finger in, all the while his other hand began to frantically fist at his cock. The sensation was unbelievable, thoughts and processes seemed to jumble in his head and he couldn’t think coherently. 

He savoured Hank in his mouth, he shifted his legs across his bed, he ran his hand over his erection, he fingered deeply inside his body, and when his fingers seemed to hit a particular kind of spot and the hand on his cock gripped just a bit tighter it all suddenly seemed to explode. Noises erupted from his vocal box, gasping and moaning and melting into static, he felt the coil in his stomach snap like an elastic band and suddenly his body was shaking, hot spurts of lubricant spilling from his cock and over Hank’s bed. 

His vision went blank for a few moments and Connor worried he had actually broken something. When he came to he merely laid there gasping, staring in confusion and wonder at the mess he had made of Hank’s personal items. He released Hank’s sheets from his mouth and sat up ever so slightly, noting his legs felt particularly weak.

In conclusion, he decided he was perfectly happy to have a sexual relationship with Hank. The optional mod worked fine and he enjoyed the activity. That seemed to settle the matter, he would inform Hank of his conclusions in due course.

Speaking of Hank, he heard the familiar rumble of Hank’s engine approaching into the driveway. A brief wave of panic hit him as he realised he was undressed, and Hank’s bed was covered in his substances. He rushed to clean the mess from between his legs, pulling up at his trousers with haste and attempting to re-arrange the bed to make it less obvious what had occurred. He would simply have to change the covers later, come up with some excuse, and come up with it quickly. 

The front door slammed open and he heard the scuffling of Hank removing his boots and Sumo barking over-excitedly. He slipped out of Hank’s bedroom and approached him cautiously from the hallway. Somehow, niggling thoughts manage to seep into his consciousness as he gave Hank a friendly smile, he remembered what it felt like, what it felt like to imagine Hank stroking his cock and pressing inside of his body. They were intrusive and he could scarcely remove them from his vision without extreme effort, and to make matters worse the previously dormant biocomponents were beginning to ping in interest. 

“You okay there? You’re changing colour.” Hank asked as he hoisted a large box onto the counter. Connor noted his strength and thought about how he would like Hank to hoist him onto the counter. It wasn’t helping. 

“I was just thinking more, about our conversation.” He replied nonchalantly. “I have been spending this time alone to think.”

Which technically was true. He didn’t need to state specifically what those thoughts led to though.

Hank nodded, “I see, nothing wrong with a bit of alone time. Trust me I’ve had plenty.”

Connor watched him with his hands clasped at his front, he observed diligently as Hank began to unpack his shopping, waiting in anticipation for Hank to return to his car to remove the last few groceries. However Hank did not return to his car, he instead began to meander around the kitchen.

“Do you… not have any further items to bring in?”

Hank peered at him, “No? I bought a load of frozen stuff last week so I’m just topping up.”

“I see…”

He needed an opportunity to clean the bedroom and he needed one fast. 

“Would you like to take Sumo for a walk? He has been restless since you left.” Connor said, voice calm.

“He’s already been out this morning, I’ll get him halfway to the park and he’ll roll over on the floor and refuse to budge. I don’t think so.”

Connor tried to hide the sudden flickering in his LED as Hank walked straight past him and into the bedroom. He couldn’t help but to bring his hand up to his mouth in a nervous gesture. Every second that ticked by seemed especially drawn out as he heard Hank move about, items clattering onto the ground, furniture drawers being opened and shut.

Then a pause.

“Connor!” 

Hesitantly he poked his head around the door. 

“Why’s my bed  _ wet _ ?” Hank asked, clearly confused, as he pointed down at the evident damp patches on the mattress.

Moment of truth Connor, determine the best response for the situation.

“I was going to clean your room, but I accidentally spilled cleaning fluid onto your bed. I was attempting to get you out of the house for a little bit longer to clean up before you would notice.”

A lie and a truth, the best way to swallow deception. 

Which might have worked for anyone else, but Hank didn’t get to where he was without being extremely perceptive. Connor liked to think he did not have any visible tells, but since his deviancy he’s found he can’t really trust that assumption anymore. Hank’s eyes roamed all over him, and he quickly tried to replay his memories of redressing. Was everything in place? Had he not zipped up his fly? Was his jacket neatly in position?

Hank squinted at him and brought a corner of duvet up to his face, eye contact direct as he sniffed at the stain. 

“Smells weird.” He dropped the duvet back onto the bed and Connor tried his utmost not to let out a sigh of relief. “Well if you’re the one who made this mess then you can clean it up. Just uh… stop messing with my stuff.”

A small ding of mission successful seemed to sound in his head as Hank moved to walk past, but the swell of victory in his chest was tempered back down as Hank suddenly paused and twisted to face him. 

“You’ve got a little something on your face there…” He thumbed at a patch just underneath his chin and Connor was mortified to watch as Hank pulled his hand away with something gelatinous and glistening on his fingers.

Hank observed it for a few moments, as did Connor. 

“Seems like you got pretty into cleaning, thought you spent your alone time thinking over stuff?”

Connor replied, “I was both cleaning and thinking.”

“Both cleaning and thinking huh.”

Connor could not determine the probability Hank knew what had occurred as he watched him walk away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean I GUESS this is slow burn now??? I swear to you all I had an idea in my head of the exact specifics of what was going to go on in this chapter but I ended up spending another 4k waffling and writing day-to-day stuff.
> 
> I can absolutely promise you I will live up to the fluff and smut tag next chapter!!!!
> 
> Also if any of y'all wanna follow me on twitter I am completely brand new and only used twitter for a maximum of 2 hours in the past 5 years: https://twitter.com/nynshibasart

It’s a while before Connor can indulge himself in life’s optional extras again.

The one thing that comes anywhere close to his love for Hank is the love for his job, and at the moment there’s far too much to contend with. Malware reports were hitting a peak, instead of remaining a background worry the problem had grew and grew to the point where Connor could only dedicate most of his processing power and time in an effort to make some headway against it.

It had started hitting the news, media attention was on this now, hysteria was beginning to bubble. Autonomy taken away from androids, a literal stab in the back for the amount of progress they had made in the past few months.

Realistically the problem was contained to small pockets, isolated incidents of people reporting their android friends or family missing, a few vocal activists disappearing here and there and reappearing as a husk. It wasn’t enough to be an epidemic, but it was enough to catch people’s attention. 

“Android related malware has existed long before androids even gained sentience.” Connor mused aloud to Hank, who was sat across from him with a glum expression. “At least 5000 documented cases since androids first came into production, so what’s so different about this one?”

Information security had been in touch, this was definitely a unique case. Android-based viruses were common-place if one were foolish enough to install some dodgy program onto their operating system, but this one? It seemed to be able to override the most foolhardy of protection, passing straight through tight Cyberlife code. Connor could vouch for that, Cyberlife were very good at maintaining their systems, even if it did almost cause him to commit an assassination.

Hank spoke, “You’re certain we got nothing linking them? No common connections? Any similarities with witness accounts?”

Connor shook his head, recalling the five Android bodies they’d managed to recover. “Nothing. They’re completely isolated incidents, I’ve checked their recording history before the hijack. Nothing about them or their actions are out of the ordinary. I can’t identify one single person of interest.”

A loud sigh left Hank’s lips, he was tired. Connor was tired too in a sense. He had spent the past three nights at the station, he hadn’t returned home. 

“Well, they’re sat with the techies now anyway. Nothing we can really do until they can scrape something more useful out of ‘em.” Hank began to tap his coffee cup onto the desk. “Don’t beat yourself up about this Connor, sometimes you’ve just got to wait until someone slips up and leaves a few fingerprints. They’re only human after all.”

“What if they’re not human? I’ve been considering all possibilities.” Connor replied without passing a single glance.

“Listen I don’t know how your brain works but you can sit there for days on end coming up with wilder and wilder theories until you can’t make sense of here or there anymore. You gotta focus with the facts right in front of you, and right now we don’t have enough information to make a solid assumption.” Hank paused, voice going soft, “You’ve been here for days now Connor, I understand this is important to you but it’s not healthy, and trust me I know all about unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

“I appreciate the concern Lieutenant but I am an android. Something like this will not affect me emotionally.”

Hank’s tone grew stern, “Connor. Do I have to give you an order?”

Truthfully only 24% of Connor’s attention had been focused on the conversation at hand, but at that remark his eyes flickered away from the computer screen to see Hank tilting forward across the desk, body taut as if he was preparing to yank Connor off the chair by force.

It took him a few moments, but he then replied with the shadow of a smile, “What will happen if I refuse?”

“You’ll get locked out of my car for being a smart-ass, that’s what.”

“Which defeats the objective of returning me home.” Connor glanced momentarily back to his computer screen, silently conceding defeat and shutting it down for the night. 

Hank huffed, stuffing a few papers and knick-knacks into his bag. “Whatever. Pack up your damn things, we’re leaving.”

“Oh? What’s this? Trouble in paradise?” An unfriendly voice interrupted.

If there were things in his life that Connor would rather do without, it was Gavin Reed. 

“You guys getting sick of playing house or what?” Gavin snorted, waltzing around the side of Connor’s desk and not so accidentally dislodging a few files onto the floor. Connor had no semblance of what being an adolescent was like, but it felt as if the high school bully was pushing him up against the lockers and asking for his lunch money. He’d rather deal with both situations by sucker punching them in the gut. 

He was by no means aggressive or violent, but some situations were quickly and best resolved with relatively harmless agonising pain.

“Gavin.” Connor responded, voice unnaturally polite. “My apologies but we were just heading out, if you could please remove yourself from our general vicinity it would be appreciated.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean huh?”

Hank chimed in, “He’s telling you to fuck off.”

“I know that’s what he said!” Gavin snapped back, he perched on the edge of Connor’s desk and leaned in. “So uh, what’s the deal with you two anyway? Some weird sex thing or…?"

“Gavin I’ve filed 12 grievences against you in the past three months. Perhaps it is best you left us alone.”

“Geez alright fine! You can’t blame a guy for being curious! As your colleague I care about everyone’s health and wellbeing, sucks that I can’t even look out for my good friends Captain Boozer over there and my buddy here the plastic boy wonder.”

Connor ignored the turning of heads across the office at their conversation. Gavin was loud and he knew it. He was the sort of type to act out for any kind of attention, spiteful and mean if only to compensate for something else lacking in his life. Connor hadn’t quite the care to really analyse what that could be.

“I’ll leave you two to uh… get cosy at home, if you catch my drift.” He let out a mean cackle.

Hank suddenly stood up, and it was at that moment Connor realised that Hank was a very tall and very broad man. “Right, you’ve got 5 seconds to piss off or I’m suplexing you over the fucking counter.”

Gavin cocked his head, expression turning an imitation of innocence, “Anderson, you wouldn’t happen to be threatening me in front of all these people would you?” 

“Funny of you to assume I have enough dignity left to not break your nose right here right now.”

A loud melodramatic sigh left Gavin’s lips as he dislodged himself from Connor’s desk, he didn’t say anything, but quite frankly it seemed the case Gavin was ceding defeat. Probably for the best really, as much as he would have liked to see Hank breaking Gavin’s spine he valued both of their jobs far too much to let that happen.

It was almost amusing to see the collective release of breath as Gavin walked out of the office.

“Right, so before I was so rudely interrupted do you want to grab your things and go?”

“Certainly Lieutenant.”   
  


\----------------------------

“Is there something strange about our relationship?”

Hank was driving them back home, dusk was just about setting in and Connor watched the street lights race by. Occasionally he would catch open curtains, people sat in their homes, and he pondered what their life must be like. Did they have an android in their family? What was life like for them day to day? How did they think, how did they feel? There were suddenly so many possibilities and existences to consider that it made Connor feel slightly overwhelmed. Where did his life, his  _ existence _ , fit into the grand scheme of everything?

“What are you saying that for?” Hank asked, tone cautious. 

“Human and android relationships aren’t exactly common-place and… I wondered what people might think.” He said softly.

“Well, do you really care what people think? Don’t tell me Gavin got to you, I thought you knew better than that.”

Connor shrugged, “I know I just… I’m not sure if I’m navigating around all of this correctly. I don’t really know what I’m doing or if I’m doing it right, I don’t know if I’ve stepped out of line or…”

Words that began to formulate fell out of his grasp, frankly he didn’t care what other people thought about him, but he worried what other people thought about Hank. It brought an uncomfortable feeling to his chest that people might have a negative opinion of him, about their relationship, about something brand new and tentative he had created all on his own. 

Perhaps he had been too swept up in the exhilarating nature of it all, realistically, the world that existed in their homes was confined. How would it affect them if he brought it to the surface, what would people say? What would people think? It was something precious to him and being exposed to the thoughts of other people made him realise how fragile it was. He didn’t want Gavin knowing or thinking about what they did, he didn’t want his opinion, he just wanted Hank’s warm comforting arms and the scent of him on his periphery. 

But life wasn’t that simplistic, how would all of this work in the long run? He didn’t know the answers to those questions, it was a big gaping unknown and it frightened him. 

He must’ve been cycling through colours, Hank’s eyes flickered between him and the road.

“Let me put it another way, do you think there’s anything strange or bad about the way you feel about me?”

“No.”

“Then, do you really think there’s anything strange about us?”

“I guess not.” 

The roads were quiet, somehow that only caused the clamor in his head to become all the more noisy. He had always maintained that the difficult aspects of their job didn’t affect him, but thinking on it perhaps things had progressed to the point where that was a lie. 

He… needed a rest, a break. He needed to wind down from the constant churn and cacophony of racing thoughts and a thousand different scenarios processing in his head. He wanted to spend time with Hank, he wanted to feel comfortable and content and loved. He wanted simplicity. He wanted Hank and his hearty laughter and the soft comfort of the TV chatter as the lights fell dark and Hank dozed beside him. Safe, warm, human, happy.

It would seem Hank knew him better than himself, he spoke up after a moment of silence where the gentle hum of the engine filled the space, “Tell you what, how about we stop by the mall and I’ll buy you something nice. I can’t buy you a nice meal or anything like that, but maybe I could buy you some clothes?” 

He spared a side eye at his outfit. 

“Maybe get you something else to wear than that stupid fucking jacket...”

“But I like this jacket.” Connor replied offended.

“Whatever. But afterwards we can head back and spend the evening together. I mean, if you want...”

Connor smiled, “I’d like that.”

They pulled into the parking lot roughly ten minutes after. The late evening hours brought little custom to the mall and the visit felt like a relatively private affair. Their footsteps echoed through the empty hallways as the tannoy played some non-offensive non-descript tune. 

A few androids were milling around, likely employees, likely for the night shift because they didn’t have the need for sleep. He passed them a few cursory glances and then felt a strange pang at the thought any one of these people could be spirited away. The virus spread was heavily concentrated in the Detroit area after all, they were alone, vulnerable, and the thought merely made  _ something _ peculiar inside him strain at his own failures. He could be back at the office right now, making headway, but instead he was here with Hank and… what? Enjoying himself? 

Connor knew he had been installed and programmed with the rooted desire for accomplishment, even to the point of his own destruction. It was always there in the background, feeding into his day-to-day code, succeeding, excelling, chasing down his tasks with dogged determination. Right now it was screaming at him, sending unpleasant electricity through his limbs. Should he really be here? Doing this? Enjoying his life? When there were  _ tasks _ and  _ priorities _ to be accomplished?

His shoes made a sudden squeak on the buffed tile floor as he pivoted on his foot, “Maybe I should head back, I’m sure there must be something crucial I’ve missed-”

He immediately walked headfirst into Hank’s mass, “Oh no you don’t! ‘ _ The case isn’t bothering me _ ’ my ass.”

It made him feel strangely giddy as Hank wrapped an arm around his waist and hauled him off in the opposite direction, his feet dragging a little at the floor.

Somehow the contact felt soothing, even if he was being forcibly moved against his own will.

“Hank please! I appreciate your concern for me but it was wrong of me to leave my post, if I spend another night at station processing matches perhaps I can-”

“No.” Hank interrupted. “No. Work/life balance Connor, work/life balance.”

Realistically he could have easily twisted Hank’s arm, tripped his foot, and dislodged himself, but he had to admit the more he struggled the more Hank held him with force, and that in itself felt rather nice. Exceedingly nice actually, nice to the point where he felt a familiar lurch in his torso and reactive processing prickled at his intimacy biocomponents.

Perhaps he should do this more often, it seemed to present enjoyable results.

Eventually he ceded that he couldn’t expect Hank to lug several hundred pounds of silicone, plastic, and machinery for too long. Also add to the fact the mall was filled with deviant androids who wouldn’t take too kindly to a human being forceful with a fellow android. He found his footing and walked alongside Hank with an indignant expression, feeling rather warm inside at the arm that had wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close.

Connor realised quickly, as Hank took him around several department stores, that he had absolutely no idea about his dress preferences. Wearing the same thing day after day was relatively easy and required little manual thinking, in fact he needn’t even take his clothes off. He was an android after all. 

“How about this?” Hank asked, holding up a chequered shirt.

“No.” 

“Then what about this?” He held up a rather plain sweatshirt.

“No.”

“Ok fine, this then?” A smart grey jacket.

“No.”

Hank fumed, “Connor it’s almost exact one you’re wearing for fuck’s sake!”

Connor peered round at the men’s section, truthfully it wasn’t that he disliked any of the clothes Hank had shown him so far, but rather he just felt ambivalent about it all.

Which defeated the purpose of Hank buying him something he liked. 

“If I’m buying something for the sake of material enjoyment, then I suppose I would like to try something different.” He said.

“Yeah sure, why don’t you have a look around and I’ll try and work out where I grabbed half of this stuff from…”

He wandered around the clothes racks, analysing each garment with a calculating eye. Some rogue line of programming whispered to him that he could easily slip off at this point and head straight back to the station, avoiding much of a conflict with Hank, but self-restraint held him back. Also add the fact Hank would probably blow an absolute gasket.

The items on display offered little inspiration. He could create pre-constructions of what the clothing would look like on him, run through data about each garment’s perceived social image, perfectly assess and complement matching colour schemes, but instead he decided on the aim that he simply wanted to look good.

Look good for Hank.

He ran through his rather wide and expansive database of Hank’s interests and factored them into his searches as he began to pull clothing from the hangers, bundling up the outfit in his arms.

Hank had a genuine expression of surprise when Connor came back with a full outfit in tow. 

“I’d like to try these on.”

His eyes wandered over the fabrics in his hands.

“Is… is that a biker jacket?” Hank said, voice incredulous.

“It is.” Connor replied.

“And you want to try that on?”

“Yes, that’s why I picked it up.”

An almost suspicious expression fell over Hank’s face, as if he suspected an ulterior motive behind the strange and foreboding black leather jacket. He blinked for a few moments before motioning silently towards the changing rooms.

Connor had to admit he did have an ulterior motive, but he wasn’t going to let Hank in on that fact. 

Hank drew the cubicle curtain closed and Connor was left alone, facing his reflection. It occurred to him as he unclipped his belt and shucked off his jacket that this would only really be his second time changing clothes. He would admit that dressing up as a deviant to infiltrate Jericho was exciting if only for the fact that it was something so uncustomary to his design. Perhaps that should have been a big red flag for deviancy, he was pretty sure Markus could have had the negotiating prowess of a slug and it would have been enough to convince him to turn.

Maybe overriding his priorities to fixate on Hank should have been another indicator as well, and hell, he was doing that from the very start.

The tight skinny jeans were a difficulty for him. He knew how to put on clothes of course but these required a certain kind of finesse that frankly he was never designed with. He attempted to angle himself on the wooden seat orientating his leg in a particular position to achieve the optimal range for pulling. Instead he miscalculated and kicked straight into the wall.

“The hell is going on in there?” Hank called out, “You dying?”

“I’m…” He faltered, “I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean you’re  _ stuck _ ?”

Hank peered around the curtain at him, it definitely wasn’t the way he had intended this to go. He was sprawled onto the floor, his legs bent into an awkward position and the jeans hanging limply at the end of his feet.

“Jesus, Connor have you never dressed yourself before?”

“I have.” He replied hotly, “I just wasn’t anticipating the level of dexterity these clothes require.”

Hank betrayed a vaguely sadistic smile, “Idiot. Get up, I’ll help you out.”

Connor stood and became aware of his state of undress. After all, the last time he had his trousers down he was getting off in Hank’s bedroom, and here Hank was, closing the curtain behind him and peering down at his bare thighs. Involuntary thoughts slipped by him, recollections of the feel of Hank’s sheets, his scent, his taste, it was enough to shift his priorities elsewhere, to prompts less savoury. 

He followed Hank’s gaze and watched Hank’s hands situate themselves just above his knee joint where the band of his trousers sat. His thumbs slipped underneath the line of fabric and despite the fact Connor had a variable and limited number of tactile receptors across his body the pressure against his synthetic skin was enough to immediately send a sharp hot jolt from the tip of his spinal unit to the top of his head.

“Brace yourself.” Hank said.

“For what-”

The physical force that Hank hoisted him up immediately knocked out a few of his programs, advanced visual analysis software and ongoing system diagnostics to name a few. His back hit the cubicle wall and he stared numbly as Hank lifted him back down and gave a self-satisfied smile, hands patting against his hips.

Alarmingly, Connor realised his sexual biocomponents were booting up. Extremely inappropriate given the situation wasn’t sexual in the slightest. He immediately tried to override their functions and was a little perturbed to discover they were ignoring his commands. This wouldn’t happen to be a result of the non-compatible modded software would it? Very very unfortunate, he tried not to betray an expression of panic.

“What’s next?” Hank asked, thumbing through the layers on the clothing hooks. 

“Maybe… maybe try that grey hoodie.” Connor replied, half-dazed.

He was flustered when Hank immediately grabbed the garment and pulled it down over his head, he tidied up the edges, pulling them flush with his body and riding his hands over his sides, smoothing out the creases.

He could feel his cock begin to jerk to life. Override. Override. Override.

Connor’s voice sounded strange even to him, “I can dress myself Hank.”

“Alright sure, could’ve fooled me.” His tone was slightly condescending but Connor opted to ignore it. 

Hank didn’t leave the cubicle, which he supposed made sense given at this point Connor  _ was _ fully dressed, but he certainly would have appreciated the privacy to de-escalate some of his… issues. 

He attempted to remain dignified as he finally pulled on the biker jacket, straightening himself out in the mirror whilst simultaneously trying to battle with a biocomponent that seemed to have gone rogue. Unwanted video clips kept swimming in his head, the feeling of Hank’s kiss, Hank’s hands all over his body. At this point he felt his entire system was malfunctioning, nothing wanted to respond to his commands anymore, and it wasn’t even an issue he could troubleshoot online.

_ Hello fellow androids, I keep getting the burning irresistible urge to rub myself against my favourite human. What should I do? _

It had occurred to him that the main aim of this exercise was to make  _ Hank _ feel flustered, after some internal reconfiguration he turned around and presented himself, “Well, how do I look?”

Hank stepped a little closer and smiled, bringing a hand to his shoulder, “You’ve got your collar tucked in at the back you massive dork.”

Oh course. Of course he did, he was so busy trying to temper down other prompts in his vision that his analysis hadn’t even picked up on that fact. He gave up, he gave up on today and trying to understand why his body didn’t want to listen to a single damn thing he told it. Things would have been oh so much simpler and easier if he had stayed at the office instead of being here with Hank and wanting to jump his bones. 

Hank was a distraction, Hank made his internal systems flounder and fail, Connor would have been a very adequate and efficient machine if Hank hadn’t turned up. 

He guessed he loved him for that.

“Hey,” Hank tilted his chin up and Connor felt a few connective circuits die out in his knees, “You look good, not really sure it’s your style but if you wanna try something different I won’t stop you.”

“No it’s fine, you’re right.” Connor let out a breath, “I just wanted to impress you.”

“Impress me?” Hank laughed, “Connor you’re gorgeous, I don’t really care what you wear.”

He was gorgeous. Hank thought he was gorgeous. If Connor could blush he was sure he would be bright red, instead he just felt his thirium tingle around his body as happiness flooded in his head. Impulse overriding his usual processes made him lean up on this toes and press a kiss against Hank’s lips. 

Impulse made him kiss again, and then again, and then suddenly he had Hank backed up against the cubicle wall and he felt his biocomponent strain in his pants. 

Hank pressed a steady hand against his chest, “Yeah uh, I’m not doing this in here Connor, at least wait until we get home.”

_ At least wait until we get home.  _ Something primal and hungry settled in his stomach at the idea, the notion. Suddenly irrelevant thoughts such as the case or this stupid leather jacket were replaced by the more tantalising thoughts of Hank, doing things with Hank, touching his body, having Hank touch his body. He felt a strange pang of alarm as lubricant began to reroute itself into his nether regions. 

Override, override, override. He was impossibly hard and he couldn’t force this synthetic cock back down. Perhaps the mod package was a little too human, human beings had so many flaws he was happy to do without, this one especially.

Should he inform Hank of his predicament? It would be a touchy subject considering he hadn’t even informed Hank he had a functional penis. Now wouldn’t be the best time to broach that he was certain. 

“Okay.” Connor put an extreme amount of processing power in to sound relatively normal, “If you would just like to step outside I will undress, then we can make our way back home.”

Hank eyed him and Connor prayed his erection wasn’t visible, “You sure you don’t need me to help you out of that stuff?”

“I am fine.” Connor said. He was not fine.

Hank grumbled, “You’re all twitchy as well, you still thinking about the case? I told you you need to relax-”

“If you must know.” Connor interrupted, feeling a little irritable, “I downloaded custom software not too long ago, it is affecting me right now.”

He determined that that response wasn’t optimal to the situation, Hank’s expression suddenly turned serious and Connor in turn felt nervous. He slipped off the jacket as Hank glared.

“Custom software!? Connor you told me you’d never touch that stuff!”

“Well I felt-”

“Especially after everything we’re focusing on right now, what if you’d accidentally downloaded the wrong thing!?”

“Hank please I-”

“What did you download?”

Connor’s mouth thinned into a tight line. 

“Can I tell you when we get back? I don’t want to discuss this in a public setting.” He said.

Hank opened his mouth as if he had a barrage of scathing words desperate to fall out, index finger poised at his side ready to jab at the air. He eventually backed down.

“Sure, fine, whatever.” He replied. “We need to talk when we get back anyway.”

_ ‘We need to talk?’ _ What on earth did that mean? Connor watched him cautiously as he left the cubicle and his biocomponent curiously died down.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing 42 pages of Hankcon fanfic??? It's more likely than you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, I am so sorry for the length of time this chapter took to be sent out! Real life gets in the way unfortunately, but to make up for it here is a longer chapter and a gratuitous sex scene. (I may be coming back to make some edits to this and other chapters in the near future...)
> 
> I know this fic ticks almost every single Hankcon smutty fic trope but man I just love the classics. :')
> 
> Also for the people asking about virus hijinks, I have to say it won't happen in this work BUT I have two other Hankcon fics to add to a series on the back-burner straight after I finish with this one. Yeah I came prepared!!! This work is for smutty fluff, the rest are for kink >:)

It’s when Connor can’t make sense of the world around him that his humanity hits him the hardest. Things blur, processes and analysis and predictions, they melt away into a messy congealed lump inside his chest. Actions cease to become protocols to follow and instead become  _ wants _ . He wants to have a good relationship with Hank, he wants Hank to love him, he wants to test his processing to the brink. He wants something illogical and beyond the comprehension of his technology.

Perhaps more simplistically he just wants Hank, he wants him, any part of him, in any shape or form. Whatever kind of relationship, whatever kind of dynamic, he wants to run those interactions over and over again in his system and bounce against his code.

He uses the word in his processing log so much it too becomes incomprehensible. He wants. He wants.

He wants Hank to look at him, he wants dialogue, but for now he has to contend with the uncomfortable silence between them as the tires rumble and pebbles and stones clink against the metal. 

He would struggle to put any of this into words anyway, the need, it consumes him as it consumes every facet of his coding. Always a background process, always running and evolving, forming shapes and shadows of humanity in his body. Merely thinking over it, dedicating his conscious attention on it, isn’t enough. He needs to express it, through touch, through speech, through action.

He has so many things to say to Hank but nothing comes out. Nothing could come out, it’s a jumble, a maze of meaning and overlapping thought. How could he ever express it? His body seemed to sing with desire, he wanted Hank’s everything and he wanted it all to himself.

He was aware that his LED must have been blinking, cycling through colours not too dissimilar to the ones sparkling against the windscreen as they drove home. 

Hank’s attention occasionally shifted, between him, between the road, between a strange middle-space elsewhere. He can only assume there’s lots on Hank’s mind too, but he doesn’t know what to say to ease the tension. There’s such a burning want in his body it grabs hold of his speech and strangles it out. Home can’t arrive fast enough.

They pulled up, Hank roughly yanking the parking break as the engine died down. There are no words here as well and Connor could only follow him quietly into the now darkened house.

In other circumstances Sumo would already be ready and waiting at the door, but the night had worn on a bit and Connor noted the dog had briefly stirred at their entrance then opted to fall back into a comfortable sleep.

Hank pattered about in between the kitchen and the living room, throwing off items of clothing and wandering in thought as Connor followed in behind him and shut the front door. He thought it best to let Hank speak first, but Hank merely remained silent as the barely audible tick of the clock handles filled what little audible input there was.

“You wished to speak to me.” Connor prompted, as Hank continued to pace in a rather predictable pattern after the first three rotations.

Hank paused, a preferable outcome. “Yeah, I did I…” He motioned to the sofa. “Sit down.”

Ever obedient, he sat down on the cushions and folded his hands in his lap. The nudge of anxiety began to prickle at his functioning, yet another unpredictable outcome, yet another unpredictable topic. He felt himself grow tense as he carefully watched every minute twitch of Hank’s fingers, every shift of his eyes. 

“Have you thought about it?” Hank asked finally.

“Have I thought about what?”

He gestured weakly, “You know… us. What do you want  _ us _ to  _ be _ ?”

Connor blinked. What did he want them to be? He knew what he wanted, he knew what he felt, how could he put all of that into words?

“I…” He started, then stopped, his eyebrows scrunching together in a rather human gesture. “I want us to be… everything. Anything you can give me. I want every single piece of you, I don’t really know what that means but I’ll take whatever it is I can I…”

Strangely the words seemed to tangle in his throat. They were ad hoc, strings of vowels and consonants pressed together in the very moment without the usual pruning of his social program. If Connor could surmise it up, he would be tempted to say they came straight from his heart.

His heart. What a strange notion. 

“Hank I’ve… missed you. We’ve barely been apart but I suddenly feel like the few hours I’ve spent away from you were far too long.” He stopped himself, aware of Hank’s perplexed expression. “Does that answer your question?”

Hank observed him for a few moments before walking over and crouching down in front of him. 

“God you’re gonna kill me with talk like that.” He said thickly. 

“I certainly hope not, I have far more potent things to say to you before the night is through.”

Hank snickered, “Is that a threat Connor?” 

“I was anticipating it to sound like seduction but if that is how you perceived it then-” He couldn’t finish his sentence before Hank leaned forward and kissed him deeply. 

No matter how many times he played over his previous memories of Hank’s lips upon his own, it never ceased to be an overwhelmingly wonderful sensation. It was like being stabbed in the chest, if being stabbed in the chest was in any shape or form pleasurable. Something razor sharp and splitting into his insides, foreign and protruding, forcing itself into somewhere it was never meant to be. 

He hadn’t much of a semblance of pain however, so humans probably wouldn’t think too highly of the analogy.

He felt a pang of disappointment as Hank pulled away, his big warm hand rising up to thumb against his cheek. 

“I’m still angry at you.” He announced.

“Oh. Ok.”

“So… what? You wanna be in a relationship with me? A romantic one?” Hank said. 

“I do, yes.” 

“A…” Hank slowed, “A sexual one?”

Connor tried not to let his enthusiasm show. “If that is something you would like to pursue, I am more than happy to partake in that kind of relationship with you.”

“I ain’t asking what you think  _ I’d _ prefer, I’m asking what  _ you’d _ prefer.”

It took him more than a second to formulate a balanced response, rather than blurting out the more abrupt lines of thought that had been pressing at the forefront of his mind. “I would find the notion of being with you sexually gratifying, yes.” 

If Hank was attempting to keep a stony expression, it was beginning to slip. Connor noted the slight red on his cheeks.

“Okay. Alright. Sure.” He stopped, tongue flicking behind his cheeks. “In what way would you wanna  _ be _ with me… exactly?”

Hank didn’t say it outright, but the implication was there. It was not necessarily the question of how he wanted to be with him, it was the question of how  _ could  _ he be with him.

“I have a penis.” Connor said. 

The silence was deafening and lasted far more than he deemed socially reasonable.

He continued, “And I also have an a-”

“YEP! ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Hank interrupted, quickly slapping his fingers over Connor’s mouth.

When Hank relented he stepped back a little, folding his arms in what Connor could only assume was a gesture to save face.

“So, I have some rules, terms and conditions so to speak.” Hank said levelly. 

At this, Hank had Connor’s undivided attention. 

“Don’t do stupid shit, and when I say stupid shit I mean stupid shit like put your life in unnecessary danger, you get that?”

Of course Connor had never really sat down and considered his mortality, or… semblance of mortality. He was simply adjusted to the notion that if he died he would simply be uploaded into another body, but that wasn’t the case any more was it? Sure Androids had empty bodies to be uploaded into, but he wasn’t sure about himself. There were other RK800s in production, but what were they doing now? Was there even a body he  _ could _ enter? He realised in that moment he simply had one existence, death was a possibility. Even with methods and tricks around it, all it would take was a perfectly aimed shot at his vital processes and memory core to wipe him out of existence.

Cyberlife weren’t keeping back-ups anymore. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

“Are you perhaps referring to the unlicensed software I downloaded? I can assure you it was perfectly safe.”

Hank huffed, “That isn’t what I meant. It was a risk Connor, and I could really do without you taking  _ any _ risks. I honestly don’t know what I’d do if…”

His voice grew quiet and Connor felt something painful twist in his insides.

“Please just… don’t do anything stupid. This really is my only condition, you’ve always been so fucking reckless and dumb and I honestly wouldn’t be able to cope if anything happened to you. If you want to make me happy, you gotta promise me you’ll take care of yourself, alright?”

Reasonable enough. Connor smiled up at him, “I promise.”

“Good.” Hank patted his shoulder, before slumping down to sit beside him on the shoulder. Connor enjoyed the warmth that prickled into his senses. “What about you anyway? Any conditions?”

“I would like to be your only romantic partner.”

“That’s pretty much a given, but ok.”

He paused, “I would also like to sleep in your bed.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, “Oh… yeah? I mean do you even sleep?”

“Not really.” Connor replied. “But I can spend unproductive hours in stand-by mode, and I’d rather spend those moments with you.”

“I’m going to be asleep Connor, I’m not exactly going to be good company.”

“I’d like to watch you sleep-” Connor noticed Hank’s bemused expression. “... or not. Needless I’d like that form of intimacy with you, depending on whether you find that appropriate.”

Fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, brushing over the fine tapered ends of his hair. He never paid that area of his body that much attention, but when Hank’s hands roamed over his skin he suddenly felt acutely aware of parts of him that merely existed, the mapping on his body, a hyper-localised spot of activity in his system. It was strangely comforting to have fingers thread through the synthetic strands of his hair. He leaned into the touch.

“We can sleep in the same bed. It’s fine. Just keep in mind I ain’t exactly a graceful sleeper.” Hank said finally. “Also you better not be lying awake watching me for hours on end you little freak.”

“I won’t watch you sleep Hank.” Connor lied.

Nails scratched at the back of his head and Connor nuzzled against his shoulder. There was something very content about the feeling. He wanted to dial down all his ongoing processes and focus entirely on the sensory input of Hank’s warm hands and skin and shirt brushing against his cheek. Perhaps this is why Sumo enjoyed scratches so much, he could appreciate the notion.

“Sorry, I know I was gunna treat you tonight but we ended up getting sidetracked.” Hank spoke softly, “Is there anything you wanna do to relax tonight?”

“I like this, I find this relaxing.” He said, pressing against Hank’s hand.

Hank shifted a little, creating distance between him and Connor as he patted his thigh, grabbing at the remote with his other hand. 

“Lie down, I’ll put something vaguely entertaining on.” 

Something in his torso flopped as he rested his head on Hank’s knee and comforting fingers began to dance against his temple, playing at the wayward strands of hair and cowlick on his forehead. It was strange how something so simplistic was making his insides grind and stutter with each press of skin against his tactile receptors. As his fingers swirled so did feelings in his stomach. 

Hank’s boxer shorts were warm, as was the rest of him. Hank was warm and soft and wonderful all at once. Sure other human beings likely had these qualities, but none of them were Hank. Hank was special. 

An old 00s animated movie flashed on the screen, he couldn’t help the automatic processes that told him how antiquated the software was nor how there was little understanding of the principles of light scattering present. He didn’t let Hank know about these aspects though, he thought it best to keep quiet and let him enjoy the moment. 

Absentmindedly, he found his fingertips rubbing against the texture of the sofa, then pressing delicately at the soft flesh of Hank’s thigh. Hank was built differently to him, mechanics and hardware aside. His posture, the tone of his muscles, the hair on his legs. It was fascinating in a way, himself an imitation, and Hank the real thing. It made him all too aware of the distance between them, the differences, they weren’t even the same kind of  _ existence _ , and yet Connor felt as if Hank was the only entity in the world who could help him make sense of being alive.

His chest was filled to the brim with components and thirium, yet somehow it felt even heavier in that moment. This was happiness, contentment, it was meaning in a world where he relied on a never-ending script. His eyes fluttered shut as Hank hummed above him. He wanted to store the moment in his memory banks and keep it with him forever until he eventually shut down.

“You’re sweet like this.” Hank murmured, scraping his fingers against his scalp. 

“Sweet?”

“Yeah, just a nicer side to you is all.”

Connor smiled and let his hand ride along the side of Hank’s calf, silently storing the exact calculations of his body structure to ruminate on later. 

“I’m always nice Hank.” Connor replied. 

“Bullshit. I’ve seen what you can do you freaky little terminator.” Hank ruffled his hair. “Still like you regardless though.”

“That’s reassuring, I would be very worried in this situation if you didn’t.”

Hank harrumphed. “Still got a sassy mouth I see.”

“Surely that is one of the qualities you like me for?”

The fingers in his hair paused for a moment, then began to slide down to curve around his chin, tilting his head ever so slightly upwards.

“I suppose it is.” Hank said, leaning down to kiss him. 

Connor wanted the kiss to continue, but was left a little disappointed as Hank sat back up to resume watching the movie. It wasn’t as if he could even concentrate on something so insignificant when all he wanted to do was taste Hank until his sampling technology simply couldn’t take any more. He continued to watch Hank for a few more moments as if the prompting would stir him back into action, it didn’t. Connor shifted on his knee and resumed staring at the TV screen.

He wanted more. He wanted his feelings to leak out through his fingers and his mouth. He wanted to take and take and take from Hank until the itch in his limbs was finally sated. 

He began to slide his fingers across Hank’s leg, noting the wiry hairs brushing against his hand. He felt the sinews under his skin and the thick bone of his kneecap, he let his fingers dance up and up and up until they dipped between the gap between his thighs.

“Hey.” A thumb swiped against his lip. “You’re stepping into dangerous territory there.”

Connor was intending to say something snappy in response, but instead he found it more prudent to capture Hank’s thumb between his teeth, biting down with light pressure. 

“Connor.” Hank warned, teasing his finger out of his mouth. 

Before Hank could pull away he grasped his hand with his own, pressing against him and feeling the flow of information slip into his consciousness: textures and fingerprints and perspiration readings. He let out a soft sigh and slipped one of Hank’s fingers into his mouth.

He wasn’t sure who groaned first, himself, or Hank who was now peering down at him with a flustered expression. He let his tongue swirl around him, capturing the minute details with the advanced sensory input his mouth allowed. He sucked hard and the soft keening noise that left Hank’s lips was yet another thing to add to his memory stores.

“Back to this again huh?” Hank said, voice gruff. “You know you really fucking threw me when you did this last time.”

Connor let Hank’s fingers graze lazily along the ridges of his teeth, “How so?”

Hank’s lips pursed then thinned. “Well uh… I wasn’t expecting to pop a boner after you started sucking my fingers off.”

“You got erect?”

“Jesus don’t fucking say it like that!”

Connor leaned up from Hank’s knee to face him, using an elbow for balance. “Does this kind of talk make you uncomfortable?”

“No. It doesn’t. It’s just you have zero sense of tact.” Hank sniffled. “Part of me wonders if you talk real blunt on purpose just to…”

“Just to…?” Connor followed his sentence with a wry smile.

His expression grew icy, “Just to make me embarrassed. Tell you what, how ‘bout you sleep on the sofa tonight huh?”

“I don’t think I shall.” Connor declared, dropping his head back into Hank’s lap.

“Disobeying orders… Deviancy really screwed with your head didn’t it?” Hank said with mock surprise.

“If anyone was responsible for encouraging me into deviancy, it was you Hank. You share a large part of the blame here.”

Hank opened his mouth as if to refute that sentence, but then seemed to realise he hadn’t much in the way of a defence. Whilst he was momentarily preoccupied Connor took the opportunity to grab at his hand again and press it flush against his face, eyelashes fluttering at the warmth. 

Fingertips ran against his face on their own accord, and Connor couldn’t help the small thrill that ran through him as Hank thumbed at his lower lip, pressing into the crevasse of his mouth. The touch was almost exploratory, as if Hank was just as curious about Connor’s body as he was about his. The tip of his thumb pressed against his wet tongue and Connor groaned at the ping of information that shot through his sampling software.  

His thumb was replaced by his forefingers, they slicked against the ring of his teeth, probing over each individual tooth and the silicone that functioned as his gums. Cautiously, they dipped further into his mouth, sliding along his tongue with an electrifying tingle until they reached the back of his throat. 

They stopped, Hank peered down at him curiously.

The fingers continued, until Hank was touching against the walls of his internal piping. A sound left Connor, but he couldn’t quite determine what the sound was supposed to represent as it came out garbled against the intrusion of Hank’s digits.

“Shit.” Hank swore under his breath. “Do you not have a gag reflex or anything?”

Connor began a lecture about how there would be no need for a gag reflex in a machine that should not be putting anything long and rigid down its throat, but of course the words simply couldn’t form as long as Hank remained lodged against his vocal speaker. He instead opted to shake his head as a no.

Slightly flustered, Hank pulled his fingers back out from his mouth and examined the wet lubrication dripping from his hand. He paused, then wiped them on Connor’s lapel. 

“Hey!” Connor started, brushing against the tight fabric of Hank’s boxer shorts. He could feel Hank stiffen ever so slightly at the motion. 

Ah yes, Hank was aroused in this situation. Something dark and needy sprung up in his protocols.

“Hank, you appear to be experiencing sexual desire, could I ask what has stimulated you to feel arousal?”

Hank’s eyes narrowed, “You really wanna sleep on the couch tonight don’t you? Little smartass. You know exactly why I’m  _ aroused _ !!”

If Connor was to be truthful his sexual function systems had already began to boot up, he hadn’t had the time to uninstall the override packages and he could feel the lower portion of his body begin to heat with interest. But Hank didn’t need to know that, he wanted Hank to be putty in his hands.

Connor flipped over onto his belly and glanced upwards, fingers curling into Hank’s shorts.

“Do you desire me Lieutenant?”

“And now we’re using work titles, Connor when you said you had more things to say to me tonight I wasn’t expecting  _ this _ .”

He faltered a little, worry pinging in his head. “Did I… Did I misread the situation? I apologise if that is the case I-”

“No you ain’t misread.” Hank mumbled, “I just… Is this something you want, or is this something you think I want? I’m perfectly happy being with you without any of the sexual shit you know?”   


“I know.” Connor replied, “Hank do you think I don’t find you attractive?”

“It isn’t that. Sex is something messy and hardly necessary, I don’t really understand why you’d wanna… You know...”

“Hank I want to touch you, I want to feel your skin in my hands, I want to taste every piece of you, I want to feel you inside of me-”

“Uh.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Connor thought for a few moments, “Or maybe I did, point is Hank I want you, genuinely. Sometimes it’s all I can think about.”

By way of conversation he was given a small scratch at the back of his neck, and an uneasy smile sat on Hank’s face. 

He supposed he could understand his hesitation, in comparison to Hank he was most likely vastly inexperienced. He hadn’t even added into the equation the fact that he wasn’t even human. Perhaps it was a venture into uncanny valley that Hank did not want to take. 

Frankly there were a multitude of reasons for Hank’s hesitancy and he couldn’t quite make sense of them. It left a strange mingling feeling in his head, maybe he was too hasty, maybe he was pushing things too fast, he simply didn’t know. He didn’t know how this was supposed to work, he could simulate human copulation habits but this, the moment, he didn’t know how it was supposed to function.

It was Hank. It was just him and Hank. It was unique and special and something he simply wanted to get  _ right _ .

The sofa squeaked as he moved to balance on his knees, reaching upwards to cup Hank’s face in his hands and quietly enjoying the rough texture of his beard catching at the many receptors embedded into his synthetic skin. 

“If you don’t want to be with me sexually I understand and will accept your decision.” He said, ignoring the excitement in his body as he pressed up against Hank’s hard chest.

Hank’s voice cracked, “I do. I just don’t wanna push you into anything-”

“We can take it slow. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can just hold hands, kiss.” He whispered against Hank’s mouth, “I just want to be with you, I want to experience things I’ve never experienced before with you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

His response was Hank’s hot mouth upon his, he shuddered in his arms as he felt Hank’s tongue push through his lips. He had never had a dysfunction in his sampling functionality, but it felt as if it had been working at a reduced capacity all his life considering how the sheer amount of data in his mouth was swimming in his head and overriding everything else. 

Hands that sat at his waist began to pull and tug at his jacket and his shirt, slipping under the fabric to smooth across the span of his back. He shifted to sit himself in Hank’s lap, stomach growing hot at the hardness against his thigh as Hank’s exploratory hands kneaded against his sides.

Their kiss broke as Connor looked down to see Hank clumsily tugging at the buttons of his shirt. As fun as it was to see Hank flounder he reached down and pulled off the remaining few, mesmerised as he observed Hank staring at him. A lone finger dragged down from his collarbone to the slight grooves in his body which marked the location of his thirium pump. Out of curiosity he seemed to follow the seams around, his fingernail catching at the socket as Connor felt his breathing grow heavy at the attention. 

“Is it strange?” He asked, as Hank began to mouth at the tip of his shoulder.

“No, it’s just… you.” Hank said quietly. “I’d love you no matter what you looked like underneath.”

Oh,  _ love _ . He felt something in his coding snap, peculiar and incongruous. It pushed itself in and situated itself warmly in his chest. Connor’s internal lexicon attributed a flurry of mismatched words to the sensation, overwhelming but incredible, paralyzing yet pleasurable, he just wanted to kiss Hank’s mouth until he couldn’t anymore. Internal processes informed him of a malfunction, Connor shoved the notifications away without a second thought.

A soft sound left his lips as Hank lightly bit down on his shoulder, tasting his imitation of skin, his lingering fingers dripping down to brush against the front of his trousers. Hank was hesitant in the way he seemed to gently curl around the jut against his zipper, non-discreetly trying to get a feel for whatever strange contraption Connor had functioning as a human phallus. He felt that familiar jolt of pleasure hit him right in his centre as his hardware responded to the hard pressure of Hank’s hand cupping around him. Sound caught at his speaker, rough and aborted.

(After a few moments of experimental squeezes he wanted to inform Hank of the specifics and manufacturer details of his intimacy biocomponents but was warned by his social software that it did not make good sexy talk.)

Curiosity somewhat fulfilled Hank’s attention fell back on the brief slivers of skin that sat underneath his clothing. He peeled back the sleeves from his shoulders, reverently as if handling something delicate and precious. Connor wanted to comment he was anything but.

Fabric pooled at his sides and he couldn’t help but to arch his back as heavy hands grasped his hips and rode upwards along his spine. 

Lust seemed to haze his mind, unnecessary processes were culled and the world seemed to melt down to the sensations against his body. It was such an involuntary action it would have frightened him if he wasn’t already feeling so excited. 

He felt smothered in darkness, the lazy pale glow from the TV framing Hank’s wonderful blue eyes. Comforting and enveloping, it masked the non-essentials, it framed himself and his half-naked body against Hank’s as unnameable emotions wrenched through his circuits and left him gasping wordlessly as his extremities burned and fried. 

Hank’s hands on him, all over him, he wanted to trace and memorise each location. 

He pulled Hank’s face towards him and claimed his mouth, hardly hiding his intentions as his tongue swiped inside him and he moaned at the heady rush of data, the tip of his tongue grazing against Hank’s own. He was surprised to feel Hank’s hands at his groin again, but this time they began to defly slip his belt from the buckle and thumb at the catch of his fly.

“You ain’t gunna surprise me with something big, purple, and glowing right?”

Connor blinked, “No? It looks perfectly normal I assure you.”

“You assure me do you?” Hank said mockingly, pulling down his trousers to observe the neat tent in the slim black briefs covering his lower body. “Cyberlife gave you a healthy knowledge of dicks huh?”

“No, but after examining reference material I determined I was designed to be an average imitation.”

“Hm, good old Cyberlife.” He hummed, running his hands over his now bare thighs. “You know I don’t really care about any of that right?”

“I know.” Connor said quietly, and he did. Hank accepted him unequivocally, android parts and all. Out of everything to pull Hank out of his android hate-filled stupor it was him and it made his thirium pump feel full. 

He was so in love with Hank it almost hurt. He grabbed him again and pressed him against the sofa, mouth full of everything he could take from him. Hands slid upwards to rest on his rear and pulled their bodies flush. 

The ring of his elastic twanged and Connor could feel Hank’s thumbs slipping in between the fabric to peel down his boxers. Suddenly he felt self-conscious, his nakedness was never anything that had been on show, he had only seen himself naked a mere handful of times. Surely shame was something more befitting of humanity considering his true nakedness was sat beneath silicone and synthetic nano-skin, but it didn’t stop the twinge of embarrassment that hit him as the last layer of his clothing fell off and Hank squeezed around his bare ass.

“Hank…” He started, then stopped, not particularly sure of what to say. It felt good, it felt good to have Hank touching the places on his body not a single finger had touched. 

“Jesus look at you.” Hank swallowed thickly, eyeing his bare body. “Fucking hell.”

Connor couldn’t comprehend what thoughts were running through Hank’s mind, and looking at his rather pained expression it simply made him all the more confused. Nonetheless he grasped one of Hank’s hands in his own and threaded his fingers between his, smiling softly as his face grew all the more red. 

“Is that a good reaction?” He asked politely.

“Is that a-? What do you  _ think _ ?” Hank spat. 

Connor cocked his head, “So I can assume you find me aesthetically pleasing then.”

“Yes… No, well, it’s not exactly that.” Hank said. “It’s because it’s  _ you _ . You, naked in my lap. You,  _ Connor _ . I just… fuck.”

“If the reality of the situation has only just hit you, we can stop now. I do not mind if you withdraw your interest.”

Hank shook his head vehemently, “God no. You’ve been my guilty wank material for the past few months so I’m not exactly going to turn this down.”

Connor hummed as Hank’s hands rode further down, he quite liked that thought, he liked that a lot. He couldn’t quite help the preconstructions that formed in his mind in regards to what Hank was thinking and what he was doing with Connor’s body.

Hank’s fingers dipped down towards his flushed erection, then paused. 

“How much of this can you feel?” Hank asked.

“As much as I’d like to.” Connor replied. 

“Then… can you make yourself feel all of it?”

“Yes.” He said breathlessly, not really feeling the need to say he had done so already.

Hank gave him a loving smile, kissing him softly as his hand dropped lower and circled around Connor’s cock.

He hadn’t really anticipated the feeling. Not in the slightest. He could fantasise and imagine, but nothing compared to the actual physical sensation of it. Despite the modding software he could still feel the sudden rush of data and recalibration as human skin touched his body, activating,  _ activating _ . If his hardware was only activating now, what the hell was he experiencing before?

The moan that left his mouth was involuntary. Low and thick and catching in his mouth. Hank was only holding him in his hand but already, already he couldn’t quite think straight and just wanted to press his body into Hank’s until there existed little else between them.

A warm hand found its way to the nape of his neck and Hank pulled him in again, tongue pressing inside as he met it with his own. Suddenly sensation began to pool in his stomach, Hank’s fist pulled gently against his biocomponent and he shook with the pleasure, toes curling at the languid pace. 

“You’re getting better at kissing.” Hank said momentarily when their mouths parted. He looked down to observe Connor’s cock in his palm and his shaking thighs. 

“Oh.” Connor gasped, struggling to keep concentration when all of his processing power wanted to simply focus on the steady rush of pleasure feeding into his system. “Was it bad before? I can download information packages to better improve my performance.”

“No. Don’t.” Hank quickly interrupted. “When I’m kissing you, I wanna feel like I’m kissing  _ you _ . Not some set of artificial protocols.”

“Hank, I’m mainly composed of artificial protocols.” He reminded him.

Hank laughed, “I don’t think your factory-settings look like this.” He pointedly fisted hard against his cock and Connor couldn’t help the jerk of his body and the strange sound that left his lips.

His heart felt full, at the maddening churn of emotions clouding in his head, at Hank’s happy mischievous smile and hands on his body. He didn’t really have a name for everything he was feeling, again, they were just  _ feelings _ . Feelings that made him want to curl into the crook of Hank’s neck, feelings that made him want to run his hands over every inch of Hank’s body, feelings that made him want to just be with Hank and never leave his side. 

Hank was gorgeous. Disregard anything Hank had said in return, he was large and broad and handsome. All he could think about was having Hank press at every inch of his frame with his pliant, oh-so-human lips, have him touch his outsides, his insides. He shuddered and gasped as Hank began to pump him firmly, his shaking fingers finding purchase on his Hank’s knees.

“You.” Connor ground out. “I want to touch you.”

“Well uhm.” Hank took one of his hands and brought it to the front of his jeans. “I won’t stop you.”

He wasted little time in unhooking his belt, pulling at the catch of his fly to take in the sight of Hank’s boxer shorts and the damp patch that stained the fabric. It was a unique sort of hunger, the way he peeled away the clothing to take Hank’s hard thick cock in his hands, burning at his priority queue and forcing all other prompts from view.

Pre-installed hardware might have made this possible, but pre-installed software offered little in the way of guidance. Contrary to what parts he had been installed with, he didn’t know how to pleasure a man, or anyone frankly. He let the head of Hank’s dick slide in and out of the cup of his palm, mouth growing moist at the idea of bending down and sampling yet more of what Hank could offer him.

His cock was hot and hard, yet strangely smooth. Connor had to take a few moments to just consider it, what it was, what it could do. He wasn’t human and would never claim to be anything close, but he wondered what it must feel like to join their bodies; how it would feel, physical and social implications aside. Even if he couldn’t feel pleasure the intimacy of them being so close would be enough, it would make him feel content and happy to have a hidden piece of Hank all to himself. 

A lingering kiss was placed against his neck, and Connor couldn’t help but to rest his head against Hank’s shoulder as the fingers working over his dick picked up a pace that added a fair few percentage points to the now present counter in his vision that seemed to signify orgasm. That definitely wasn’t a feature from before, and he had to wonder what other extras and hidden gimmicks were installed into his body without his conscious awareness. 

He pumped Hank’s cock harder, feeling the tension in Hank’s limbs roll against his fingers. He let out a deep grunt and Connor felt it right in the pit of his stomach. The counter ticked up 10%.

It was addicting, it was hunger and want and fever all rolled into one. Hank gripped his hip and ran his lips over each inch of his chest, startling as Hank’s teeth caught at a nipple and a wave of sensation caused him to buck into his touch. He hadn’t realised that place was sensitive, though frankly every single part of him felt sensitive to the touch.

“Hank…” He garbled, voice modulation hazy. “Hank I’m… I’m…”

He was what? He didn’t know. The heat in his body seemed to melt down all comprehension and all he was left with was the remnants of base desire. Hank Hank Hank Hank Hank-

“Never thought I’d see you like this.” Hank murmured in his ear, the low rumbling sound instantly fed straight into his dick. “God you’re beautiful.”   


Connor wanted to respond, but he couldn’t. Instead he mashed his face against his, slipping his tongue through his mouth and swirling his saliva against his sampling tech as his body shook. 

His grip on Hank’s dick was haphazard, his limbs growing slack as he felt pleasure build and build and build in his insides. He wanted to get Hank off, he wanted to make Hank feel as good as he was feeling. He moaned, frustrated against Hank’s wet mouth. 

“Hey.” Hank whispered. “Let me help you.”

A warm palm placed itself over his own, and he felt his lower body being guided towards Hank’s chest. He looked down to see Hank press their cocks together, cupping them in one hand and grinding against the friction.

“Shit.” Connor uttered. Hank let out a low wonderful laugh.

His hand sped up, encouraging Connor’s along with it, and he could only lie there resting against Hank’s broad shoulder, staring at their bodies with a mixture of awe and incoherency as the pressure in his chest built and built and artifacts began to distort his vision.

Hank began to make noises, wonderful noises, he drank them in and let them grind and scrape around in his head. Everything was Hank, all of his senses, his touch, his sight, his smell, his hearing. He drowned in the flow of input, let it churn up the fibres and components in his body. His voice stuttered and stalled as he felt the peak of pleasure hit him again and again.

“Fuck, Hank you’re going to make me-” He gasped, feeling his legs tremble. “I’m gunna- I’m gunna-”

Hank chuckled, “Yeah, that’s it, there we go.”

His hands grabbed Hank’s thick arms, clenching to an extent that if he wasn’t as far gone he would have registered it was bordering on causing physical harm. His back arched, hardly on his own conscious input, and he threw his head back as sharp spikes of electricity seemed to stab him in the gut repeatedly until he was shaking, Hank’s name catching and glitching on his tongue.

He registered he was coming, a flash of red in his vision, and his cock jerking with hot fluid all over Hank’s chest. All the many multitude of internal systems that had been working at full capacity suddenly petered out now the deed was done; he felt his body go slack as he lost control, slumping against Hank as he gasped loudly to expel the hot steaming air that had accumulated in his biocomponents. 

It didn’t take long for Hank to fall apart underneath him, he listened, mystified, as Hank began to groan under the slick of Connor’s ejaculate coating his cock. He felt the spurts of come speckle his chest and his chin, remarking at the mixture of their fluids, clear and wispy white coating his thighs. The deep drawl that left Hank’s lips was nothing short of the most satisfying thing he had ever heard in his life.

Silence settled over him, he didn’t know what to say and the emotions that usually sat dead centre in his core moved upwards to clog his mouth. Maybe he didn't need to say anything, just this, just the moment between them, was enough. He hoped that somehow, someway, even though he couldn't connect with Hank, the feelings he could never put into words would leak through to him.

Hank stirred first, pushing gently at Connor's mass until they unstuck, liquid dripping down to create a bigger mess over the couch. 

"We need towels." He said unevenly, pressing a kiss against Connor's forehead.

"Hank." Connor said neutrally. "Thank you."

" _Thank you_? Connor that's not something you say after a handjob."

"Oh? Well, what would you rather I say?"

Hank sniffled, "I don't know. Something sexy."

His LED circled orange, "Apologies, I do not have the appropriate repository for 'sexy' phrases. But I can download some."

He was met with a hand in his face, "Forget it! Forget I said anything!"

Hank lumbered upwards and tucked himself back into his pants, casting an eye over Connor's dishevelled form. Although spent and exhausted, Connor could only stare back at him with a content smile upon his face.

"You know uh... Probably not the most opportune time to come out with this, but I'd like to take you out on a date."

"A date?"

Hank was already flushed red from their excursion, but he could identify the small micro-expressions that flitted across his face suggesting embarrassment.

"Yeah so uh... Think of where you'd like to go."

With that he left the room, Connor sat there with a million and one preconstructions swimming in his head of places he could enjoy with Hank. 

Life was good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can identify my gradual descent into finding Hank extremely sexually attractive as time went on whilst I wrote this fic. Horniness ended with Connor now Hank is the man I am horny for.


End file.
